


'Pon the Replay

by Samarkand12



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Peggy Sue, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2020-12-13 18:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21002192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samarkand12/pseuds/Samarkand12
Summary: Where the Beacon Engines malfunctions in a way that no one predicted.And someone finds themselves with a second chance.





	1. Chapter 1

_Can't move._

_Straps too tight._

**_Red fire she could feel her, smug and poisonous and vile, the energies building, no,_ don't--**

Panicked screaming from Vrin and the geisterdammen.

There was the scent of smoke.

_\--**the oscillation coming from the throne sounded rather ominou--**_

White light and pain and then down into the dark.

++++

Green eyes flew open.

Agatha fell onto hard wooden floorboards.

She snapped into a combat stance--_too slow, I've been slacking off, feels as if I never trained--_as she looked wildly around the--

She took in the little bed like an airship berth against one wall. The desk opposite it was covered in school papers and half-finished projects. Early morning light filtered through a small window with several potted plants set before it. The slanting attic roof was painted a midnight blue with white stars dotted all over it. Outside, she heard the familiar sound of Mr. Tock's bells chiming that it was six in the morning.

This was her room several hundred kilometers away from Balan's Gap.

She has not seen it for--

\--lightning ripping through her brain--

\--oh. That. That must be a dream. A horrible dream.

"Agatha?"

Lilith stood there _alive and whole and not dead, not dead_ on the short flight of stairs leading to the room with a concerned expression.

"I"m alright." Agatha rubbed her temples. "Just a nightmare and a headache."

"Well, I'll make you some soothing tea, child," Lilith said.

"Thank you."

Just a dream.

Agatha frowned as she clutched the locket about her throat.

It had to be.

++++

She wasn't rushed as she remembered being in the dream. But she still took her time eating breakfast with Adam and Lilith. She had dreamed that they had been dead for over two months, after all. Sweet lightning, she could still see that construct ripping them to shreds! What a horrible thing to imagine. She must have eaten something that disagreed with her. It was so wonderful to know that it was merely a night terror.

She hugged them before stepping out _in the green tweed dress and vest just like she had imagined_ into the street. No matter. She had plenty of time to make it.

Agatha paused.

Quietly, she doubled back to fetch something from one of Adam's tool-chests.

It was so silly, of course.

++++

The sense of deja vu about the street scene was nothing to be worried about. No doubt her subconscious had created that scene from what she saw every day walking to school. There was nothing to worry about.

The air suffused with ozone.

Bystanders screamed as electricity arced off every metallic object

\--"**THAT**"--

Agatha ran from the vision that appeared before her into an alley, just like the dream.

She tripped over the box just like in the dream.

She instinctively caught her glasses before they fell off, unlike the dream.

"Well, looks like our very own angel of mercy has--" said the smirking deserter with the wounded knee. Just like in the dream.

"--hi, sweetie, spare some change--" said Moloch von Zinzer as she had imagined him in the nightmare.

It was all playing out exactly as she had seen it.

Of course, unlike the dream, she had a heavy wrench in a coat pocket that she slammed into Moloch's brother's wounded knee. A wrench to an already-injured patella did ever so much _satisfying_ damage than a beer bottle to the chin. So did a snap-kick with a steel-toed boot to his face that send most of his front teeth into a ballistic trajectory. The damned headache was back boring into her temples like drills made of plasma _but she had trained or would train with Zeetha to fight off the pain_ so she was able to kip-up into a standing position to ram a heel into his crotch as he lay prone on the slimy flagstones of the alley. Agatha ground it into his unmentionables because _it just felt so damned satisfying._

A hand grabbed her hair.

Moloch had always been terrible at fighting. She had him up against a wall with the wrenched raised to crush his puny skull--

Agatha froze.

Not a dream.

It had happened. Or would happen.

She vaguely heard Moloch say something like--

"-mercy, black fire and slag, all I wanted was some freaking change--"

"You're getting us a room," Agatha snarled. "And tools. I'll pay. We're a soldier and his doxy. If you try to run, I will have jaegers hunt you down to bring you back to me. Comply and you will live. You have one chance. Don't blow it."

+++++

"What the hell is going on?" Moloch said, peering out the window. 

"The Baron finally invading over the fact my master had a hive engine hidden in the his private lab." Agatha glances at the clock. "It's occurring a half hour later than it originally did."

"Your who has a WHAT and the FREAKING BARON IS WHERE--" Moloch chugged down more of the bottle of "balloon juice" that he had bought from the bar downstairs. 

"My master, the Tyrant of Beetleburg." Agatha bit her lip as she worked a slim probe into the casing. "Your brother chose the worst target imaginable. That is why he got scraped off the pavement by the Watch and dumped into the drunk tank. Better than he did in the old reality."

"You're a Spark," Moloch said flatly. "No-one talks that crazy so easily."

"Drink and relax," Agatha said. "You're in a room with a pretty girl and cheap alcohol. Trust me, this day is already turning so much better for you."

Moloch seemed much less aggressive than he had been in the reality that she recalled. Of course, he was not blaming her for killing his vile brother. She really should have crushed the man's windpipe. But she needed Moloch's cooperation as a cover to get this room. It was in precisely the sort of establishment that young ladies--especially ones raised by a construct who adhered to strict bourgeois values not to stand out--should never enter upon pain of fallen virtues. It was however the sort of place that a girl who had wandered all over Transylvania with a circus troupe would be familiar with on principle. The man at the desk downstairs had not looked twice at them as she leaned arm in arm with him giggling like a brainless trollop.

The catch that she had finally found yielded to her probing. Her breath hitched in her throat at finally seeing the mechanism of the _device that her uncle that she had loved and trusted more than anyone had crippled her for thirteen years_. Agatha clenched her fists. No, it had not really been Uncle Barry's fault. It had been that _evil, treacherous **bitch who she would never think of as a mother ever again**_. Breath in, breathe out. Ground yourself. Agatha leaned close with a jeweler's loupe screwed into one eye to study the mechanism. Red fire, it was an amazing piece of work. This was the product of her uncle's Spark working at its peak. There was _so much to learn--_

Agatha dragged herself out of fugue. No. This was...not the time. She instead applied a pair of tweezers to the little slider control in one half of the hidden compartment. She clicked it down two marks before pressing the locket to her throat. **Pain.** Another two marks. _Pain._ Another. _pain_. Snapping the locket shut, she threaded the chain around her neck and snapped the clasped closed at the nape of her neck. She only shuddered a bit at feeling its weight about her throat. It was necessary. She could not risk an uncontrolled breakthrough--even the gentle one that she would have had--right now. She fended off the mild ache that settled in her mind while reviewing that message to the generals. She had written it in Arabic. She was fairly sure that at least one of the generals--likely Goomblast--would be able to read it. She put the papers that she had written all the relevant information she knew about Sturmhalten into an envelope.

She could go straight to the Baron, of course.

However, she had matters to attend to in Mechanicsburg.

"Moloch." Agatha shook him out of his terrified stupor.

"What? Just leave me alone, kid," Moloch moaned. "I don't want of whatever craziness you have--"

"How would you like to make an astonishing amount of money?" Agatha said. "Along with the chance to travel in the company of at least one woman of very loose morals and a great sense of humour?"

"You had me at money. The loose woman definitely sold it."

"Excellent!" Agatha handed him the envelope and a handkerchief that she had rubbed vigorously on the back of a hand. "Just sneak out to find the nearest jaeger, tell him a lady wishes him to bring this important piece of intelligence to his superiors, and that he should bring us...mmm,...say a thousand pax-gulden."

"You....want me to actually talk to a jaeger." Moloch licked his lips. "Exactly how astonishing are we talking about with this money? And how loose--"

"Moloch." Agatha smiled. "Do you really want to test my patience?"

"Hell no," Moloch whimpered.

"Good! See, we already have a better relationship than we did."

++++

_A few weeks later--_

"Madame, we are in your debt," Master Payne said. "That clank would have destroyed us."

"No problem." Agatha smiled, brushing a speck of dust off her death ray. "Fellow travelers on the road, and all that."

"Oh yeah, I definitely can see a career in show business." Moloch grinned, one arm about a very alive Olga Ziga. 

"Are you heading towards Mechanicsburg?" Agatha asked.

"We should arrive in two months," Master Payne said. "Assuming there are no problems on the road."

"I predict that the Wastelands will be less hazardous this spring." Agatha waved behind her back to the woods. On the breeze, she could hear faint snickering and the huff of a large bear. 

"Naturally." Madame Payne looked askance at her. "Of course, in this troupe, everyone takes their turn on--"

"_I don't play Lucrezia. Ever._" Agatha forced a smile. "I am however quite the pianist and organist. I believe I saw a ruined steam-calliope over there. I think I can do something with that."

"Welcome to Master Payne's Circus of Adventure," the magician said, bowing. "I believe you and your brother will find this an enjoyable trip."

"You have no idea."


	2. Chapter 2

Anevka found these family meals so tedious. Her hypocrite of father smiled genially as he said the private grace that his thrice-damned Lady would one day return. Tarvek murmured along with him while hiding his disgust behind a pose of foppish tranquility. As for her? Why she was not even sitting at the table. The husk she had been was within the catafalque. What was sitting at in the chair to the left of dearest pappa was a prosthesis that could not feel or eat or do anything that she dreamed of. She so longed to drive a fork into pappa's eyes ever so slowly just as she did mamma's. But that would be detrimental to her plans. So she simply had to suffer through this tedious farce with the vain hope that something interesting would enliven the evening.

A drop-armor pod punched through the ceiling--pinning pappa alive beneath it--followed by a hoard of Jaegers.

Klaus Wulfenbach stepped out.

No. If she must be accurate--if crude--what stepped out of the drop-armor clutching a massive backsword with a scowling face on the brass basket hilt was Klaus Fucking Wulfenbach. Klaus Wulfenbach was the somewhat grumpy tyrant who ruled much of Europa. Klaus Fucking Wulfenbach was a hulking, magnificent brute of a man who shattered her father's jaw with one negligent boot to the face before reaching over the dinner table to seize Tarvek by his dinner shirt. Anevka was not sure which emotion consumed Tarvek more: terror that the merciless dictator who had crushed everyone before him was hauling him up by the strength of one arm, or outrage that his artfully-arranged evening attire was being rumpled without any care. Klaus idly cut a Smoke Knight in two--oh good, it wasn't Veilichen, he was valuable--while glaring atTarvek's face mere millimeters from his own.

"**_I have been informed by an anonymous source that you are salvageable_**." The Baron was in the full grip of the madness place. "**_To prove this, you will lead these jaegers to the machine that summons the essentiae of Lucrezia Mongfish into the poor women your father has been sacrificing over the past two decades._**"

Tarvek sagged in the Baron's grasp. It might not even be an act.

"**_Castle Wulfenbach is over your town. My fleet is already C-gassing the surface._**" The Baron tossed Tarvek into the claws of a jaeger. **_"Sinnear vulcanic accelerators from the Black Archive are already burrowing down to fill the caverns under your town with lava. You house will be attainted along with EVERYONE ELSE OF THE PACK OF VIPERS WHO COLLABORATED WITH HER._**"

Every delicate gear in her prosthetic body froze when he turned to her.

"But if you cooperate and reveal every secret," Klaus continued, in a much milder tone, "I promise to do my utmost to restore your sister."

Tarvek always was far too sentimental for his own good.

Anevka waited for a few minutes as the Baron stood working his jaw in fury.

"Are you going to vivisect my father's brain?" Anevka asked. "We do know about your little hobby."

"You speak for mercy on behalf this man?" Klaus raised a brow.

"Oh no, I'd like to join in," Anevka said. "In fact, I have a cozy lab with the loveliest neuro-dissection instruments. Suhl-forged."

"You were characterized as a monster," Klaus said over pappa's frantic begging. "I do however have so little time for my work. Truce to postpone the inevitable betrayal until we are finished?"

"Oh, we won't be finished for a very long time,' Anevka assured him.

Her plans to usurp the Lady were now garbage. Any hope of retaining Sturmhalten was gone.

Still, when these little yet sweet victories fell into one's lap? One should savor them when one had the chance.

++++

Terrible news, decent news, great news: those were the things that Moloch von Zinzer categorized his luck day by day. Terrible news always came first. Paying attention to the terrible news was what kept one alive when more hopeful fools were still insisting the steam-pipe leak wasn't that bad. The terrible news was that he had gotten himself dragooned into a crazy Spark's plots. Said Spark was nuts enough to think she had met him in some kind of...like, he wasn't too clear on this, a copy of this world that she had found herself thrown back several months to her old body. Said Spark was also deep in cahoots with the jaegers enough that they did favors for her. That meant she had gulled them into thinking she was a Heterodyne Heir, or else she was Connected to powerful people in Mechanicsburg. Moloch had heard stories of the You Do Not Fuck With Them variety from various fences and shady dealers in his years as a soldier.

And he couldn't run. She might actually set those jaegers hiding in the woods on his trail.

Decent news: crazy she might be, but once she was done terrorizing him into submission? Agatha was actually pretty damn grounded for a madgirl. She treated him like a person once he showed willing: chatted mechanics, ate meals with him as if she thought he was another person, and paid a salary for posing as her half-brother on top of it. Getting paid on the regular was great. Several of the nobles and Sparks he had done sellwrench service under had not been so understanding. He even had some faint hope that the huge sack of cash she was promising him would be real. Even if it wasn't, he was saving enough of his weekly pay to come out ahead when it came time to slide out. 

Great news: she really was right about the sense of humour and--maybe not loose morals, but damn if Olga wasn't _very_ appreciative of the guy who had jumped in to stop her lovely face from meeting a hard rock.

"So, wanna help me sell the Awful Tower?" Olga said. She trailed her nails down his bare chest.

"You are worse than Omar," Moloch replied, cupping her bare bosom in his palms. 

"No, you said your brother mugged people." Olga shivered when he starting flicking some switches. "I--Saint Teodora, right _there_\--am selling them shares in the scrap value of the Tower."

"What are you actually selling them?"

"Free tours of the tower grounds I lifted from a Cook's office in Bucarest." Olga grinned before kissing him like a Parisian. "And I won't sell them to anyone poor or more than twice the price of a good drink. It's the con, not the fraud, that counts. So, wanna be my drunk wastrel of a husband who I'm fleecing?"

"What the hell, I'm in," Moloch said.

"Let's take care of that," Olga replied, straddling him.

Yeah, it wasn't all bad.

Moloch finally rolled himself out of the bunk he and Olga had been sharing by mid-morning. Olga had left an hour ago to freshen up for her Mistress of Telecommnivisualisation act. He did a quick field bath down there and under the arms with water from the traveling wagon's cistern before sliding into the red Turkish breeches and gold vest that was his Circus garb. Everyone in Master Payne's troupe wore fancy stuff even when lazing about in camp. It was all part of that, whatchamacallit, _en stage_ thing they had going. These people were really serious actors. A guy might think he was in a Circus where half of the performers were Sparks, given how they kept it up even in camp. Terrifying thought if that had been true. Moloch would have left a trail of fire leading to the horizon if he didn't know any better.

Eh, maybe he might have stayed even if they were Sparks. Master Payne handled his people like the best of the mercenary commanders that Moloch had known. Being a part of his crew was one of the better berths that Moloch had cadged. Fishing out a stubby from the icebox, Moloch popped the cork out with a practiced flick of a thumbnail as he looked out at the town square of Zum Zum. The Circus was already doing a roaring trade even if it was only morning. The Coffee Tent where the fine mark--er, townspeople of ZumZum were crowding around that brewing engine/serving clank was especially busy. Her Nibbs had knocked it together from scrap parts meant for the Silverlodeon after Zeetha had dared Agatha to try Moloch's "engineer's brew". The result of her caffeine-crazed sparkiness certainly tasted amazing. But Moloch found it didn't have the body he liked. It didn't even try to dissolve the bottom out of the mug.

Moloch spotted her on the back porch of Baba Yaga. For reasons he did not even try to understand, she had volunteered to take it over instead of use the perfectly good tinker's wagon that they had been provided by her monstrous minions. Moloch wisely did not think about where they had gotten the wagon or the thousand pax-gulden that came with it in a cashbox. He raised his brows when he saw Lars step out to kiss her. Hello, looks like someone else was getting springtime romance. Lars was a pretty solid guy, too. Total chicken when it counted, which upped him in Moloch's opinion. The guy knew when to _run_ instead of being a Big Damn Hero. He gave Moloch a high-five with the grin on his face of a man who had had a great night when they passed.

Then Moloch heard the sobbing from Baba Yaga.

Not his problem. Not his business. Not his--

Aw, hell.

"You okay, kid?" Moloch peered carefully around the chicken-caravan's front door.

"Great. Lars is amazing as a lover." Agatha sat back in her bunch, tears streaming down her cheeks. "And it means _nothing_, because we never shared the stage as Bill and Barry, so even if he was actually in love with me then, which the _idiot never said because of course people never tell me straight what they feel, all I am to him now is a nice fling in camp in between the girls he seduces in town, and I feel so cheap--_"

"Whoa." Aw, crap, he was never good with upset women. He cast about wildly before finding a shop-rag without too much grease on it. "Here. Blow your nose or, uh, something. Did you have fun?"

Agatha muttered something about "multiple".

"You had fun with a guy who liked you well enough." Moloch shrugged. "Alright, so it's not what you expected. It's still good. Like, you know, maybe the beer was off but it still does the job? Does that help?"

"Absolutely not." Agatha blew her nose. "Points for trying, though."

"Eh, I owe ya, I guess," Moloch said. "For being a real asshole to you in that other time-or-whatever."

"You're a really good friend," Agatha said. "I still miss Krosp--red fire, I hope they got him off Castle Wulfenbach--and what I might have had with Lars. But...well, you giving me a chance after I was, um--"

"A pushy townie who scared the crap out of me," Moloch said. "Water under the blown bridge, kid. You did right by me. I'll do right by you until we get to Mechanicsburg."

"Don't worry," Agatha said. "I'll make sure you're on the first dirigible heading for the City of Lightning when we get there."

"Uh, I might actually stick with the Circus." Moloch grinned sheepishly. "I have, uh, reasons."

"I'm so glad." Agatha smiled. "And I vow that I will send you to Paris, someday."

+++++

_Some time in the future:_

"Well, we are in Paris!"

"THEY ARE GOING TO MAKE US INTO GLOVES! RUN FASTER!"


	3. Chapter 3

Zeetha charged the crab clank with a wild cry. This would be a good death. There would be no more despair hidden behind smiles and jokes. There would be no more sleepless nights in Yeti's bunk wondering if Skiffander was just another hallucination. She would not even have to wander out into the woods to find some monster to fight. Dying by this thing would help buy her friends time to escape. Zeetha smiled with fangs bared as her _qattraas_ sliced through a leg joint. Hah. This thing wasn't too tough. It was just some creaky hunk of junk.

The green ray blasted her off her feet. Then a claw closed around her tight enough to crack a few ribs.

Zeetha stared into the glowing green eye that looked so much like Luheia's Mirror. If she died here, would her soul go back?

Then there was the scent of ozone, a crackling blue bolt, and an explosion that sent Zeetha and the claw flying into the trees.

"ZEETHA!" A girl knelt beside her. "I am so sorry, we went to find Balthazar, but I timed it--"

She was about eighteen with red-gold hair and green eyes and _she was--_

"_Zumil._" Zeetha smiled over the agony in her ribcage. 

"How?" the girl asked.

"Do you think I would not know you are _zumil_?" Zeetha licked her lips. There was a copper taste on her tongue. "A _kolee _always knows her _zumil_ when she sees her."

"MOLOCH! PUT OLGA DOWN AND GET MY MEDICAL BAG." Agatha tore open the claw. "Stay down. I have to stabilize you."

"It's real." Zeeth reached up with a shaking hand to cup her cheek. "Skiffander is real."

"Yes. We'll find it."

"Good." Zeetha narrowed her eyes. "And don't think I'm going to skimp on your training because of a few busted ribs. You're in terrible condition. Tomorrow morning, we are going to toughen you up!"

+++++ 

Agatha focused on playing the Silverlodeon rather than the sight of Lars and Pix performing the burning-submarine scene from _West Pole_.

She was not in any way jealous of Pix. Whatever romance she had on stage with Lars was left there when the final bows were taken. Nor was did she miss treading the boards as that _miserable, vile woman_. In fact, she had had to dial up the locket before the first few performances to suppress the urge to blow Pix-as-Lucrezia into subatomic particles. It was simply bittersweet to remember all those kisses that she had had with Lars had grown more intense with each night on stage. There were so many of comments Lars had made in that other time that if she had just listened to them properly-- No. Stop it, she scolded herself. What might have been, might have been. There would have been _complications_ when she finally reached Mechanicsburg. Romance was best pursued when she was settled down and ensconced in an impenetrable fortress that would discourage the wrong sort of suitor.

Agatha banished the regrets as she flung herself _into the sheer glory that was the music._ Instead of the ingenue, she had become the Circus' one-woman orchestra by completing the Silverlodeon ahead of schedule. She had packed the tinker's wagon with all sorts of parts and scraps needed for the project on the journey to where she would have first found the Circus. The hidden assistance of a swarm of her little clanks, Moloch, and eager volunteers from the Circus' Sparks had finished the Silverlodeon quickly indeed. She even had the mirror ball and light show that she had contemplated adding in! She had never really explored her musical side when she was an actress last time around. It was actually more satisfying to be playing in the background. _There was so much to keep track of--the score for the scene, sound effects, cues for various characters and situations. One had to be ready to improvise at a moment's notice when an unexpected bit of business came up. It almost was as if she were the secret director of the play, **the troupe and the audience dancing to the music coming from her mind to her fingertips to the Silverlodeon, hee, with a few modifications she could ensure that they would really dance, her wasps unsuspected in their brainstems--**_

_**nonoNONONONONONONONO**_

Gasping, Agatha reached for the galvanic pistol concealed under the folding bunk of Baba Yaga. **_It was not over, she was rising from the dead in her mind, put the muzzle to her head and pull the trigger and END THE THREAT._**

A hand clamped with vice-like strength around one wrist.

"You are Agatha," Zeetha said.

"I--" Agatha strained against Zeetha's grip.

"You are not her." Zeetha pinned down the hand. "You are my _zumil_. You were stolen out of time, sent to when we never met, and still I knew you better than my own mother and queen. You are not her."

"I am Agatha Heterodyne." Agatha forced herself to draw her hand away from the concealed weapon. "I am not Lucrezia Mongfish. I am alive. She is lost in the hell she made for herself."

"That you are." Zeetha's hands moved to her shoulders. Tension disappeared as fingertips calloused from years of warrior-princess training delved into knots and pressure points. "So you aren't going to do something stupid like hand her a victory, are you?"

"No." Agatha flopped down. She squinted at the Mechanicsburg jaegerclock mounted on the opposite wall. "Ugh. Almost time for training, isn't it?"

"Well, we have to keep you occupied." Zeetha smiled ferally. "And a sweat would do you good."

Agatha grinned.

She had so missed this.

+++++

Wrong.

She did not miss this. 

Agatha had thought that a few cracked ribs would have slowed Zeetha's insane training regimen a touch. Unfortunately, her _treacherous swine of an honor guard_ had decided to help Zeetha toughen up their Heterodyne. That was why a cackling Zeetha was testing Agatha's evasion skills with the Stick of Doom applied to her butt while she rode Fust. Whenever exhaustion claimed her, the puff of the massive jaeger-bear's breath on her back spurred her ever onward. The Three Stooges lent their own additions to the Skiffandrian Kill You Fitness Program by leaping out of the underbrush with claws bared. Any swipe that Agatha did not dodge ended up ripping open her novice's costume. Said costume was not precisely the most modest of garments to begin with. The first few sessions after Agatha had restarted her training had resulted in rags that concealed even less than Olga in her High Priestess costume. Agatha then had to spend at least an hour sewing up the damned thing into some semblance of its original state. She had had to put together three replacements for the original one that Zeetha had handed her at the start of this enterprise.

It definitely got her mind off her mother.

Agatha dodged a swinging log. Had she mentioned the traps? The Jaegers also set traps along the course that Zeetha chased her atop a _freaking bear. _Apparently, it was "practice for ven hyu vant to fix Der Kestle". Whatever THAT meant. So Agatha had always to keep an eye for snares and tripwires--even Moloch got into the act, using the Circus' pyrotechnics supply to create bomb not-all-that-simulators--while the stick thwapped and the claws slashed and oh sweet lightning yes. With a cry of joy, Agatha flung herself across the line made in the dirt into the clearing where the morning's hell had begun. She crawled using what were very likely her eyelids to where Jenka had a pot of something brown and delicious-smelling simmering over a campfire. Any doubts she had about jaeger cooking methods dissolved as she dunked herself face-first int the bowl of stew that one silvery-grey hand put on the ground before her. 

"No bogz," Jenka said from behind her scarf. 

"Ah, come on, those candied locusts-on-a-stick you showed me were great." Zeetha triumphantly hopped off Fust...and then staggered clutching her ribs. 

"I have hyu!" Oggie said.

"No, I help de gorl!" Maxim said.

"Hyu vants de help?" Dimo asked, offering his arm while Oggie and Maxim rolled around punching each other.

"See, this is what I like." Zeetha threaded her arm through his. "Big, strong guys mit brains."

"Hoy, vot for hy earn de insult?" Dimo's lazy smile belied the outrage in his words.

"Go off into de voods, hyu two." Jenka propped Agatha up against a treat. "Miztress, I heff news."

"Is the bear far far away?" Agatha whimpered.

"I might have pushed it this time," Zeetha admitted.

"Fust is friendly bear now." Jenka patted her ursine mount's skull affectionately. "See, he cleaning of hyu face."

"I am so pleased," Agatha spit out bear-slobber. "Ugh. What is it? Had the Baron finally melted down that thing he took from the chapel?"

"He is still examining it." Jenka shrugged. "Iz Spark, undt he heff personal reasons. Dey tink he mean to summon Lucrezia into some clank head or put her in an otter's brain."

"I want it destroyed," Agatha snarled. "Now. Don't bother with an accident. Send a brute squad of the jaegers through whatever the Baron has protecting it and smash it to bits."

"Sure you want to go that far?" Zeetha asked. She had a bowl of not-bogz-stew in her hands while she sat in Dimo's lap. "You're risking a lot defying the Baron without Mechanicsburg to back you up."

"I will risk some Lucrezia loyalist sneaking in to bring her back if I leave that abomination intact," Agatha replied. "In fact, if the Baron does object, remind him that _my jaegers are on loan_."

"Hohoho, verra sexy," Oggie leered.

"Yez, verra erotic, gorl giffink orders like dot." Maxim smirked. "Master Gil, hy tink he like hyu better don dot princess he vill marry."

"Eediots." A silver grey-hand covered Jenka's face. "Hyu heff to lead up to dot sort of news!"

Oh.

Agatha was now glad that she was too exhausted to think. She could see Gil's betrothal to Xerxsephnia von Blitzengaard in a rational manner. Of course, it made political and strategic sense for Klaus Wulfenbach to tie his Empire to both the legacy of the Storm King and the anti-Lucrezia faction of the Knights of Jove. For their part, said faction of the Storm Lords needed a reason for the Baron not to hunt every single possible candidate for the Storm King's crown for cathartic homicide. It was certainly no concern of hers who Gil married. They had not even met in this time. There was nothing between them save for those few memories of dancing in his arms and the wild fight with the slaver wasps and _that one kiss that she had not even thought much about at the time._ Besides, she had a castle and town to retake. So giving in to the urge to send him the _so very clever modifications to his falling machine's engine_ she had been scribbling down was simply asking to be exposed. The same went for Prince Tarvek--no meeting and...well, the fact that she had utterly betrayed him to the Baron might make her seem like family, so any potential romance would be rather incestuous, wouldn't it?

_I hate you, mother. So much. Maybe I should let the Baron put your mind into a turnip._

Strong, calloused hands gripped her shoulders.

Agatha looked into Zeetha's eyes.

Her _kolee_ had trained her better than that.

She had to be strong.

Especially since Zeetha leaned against her the entire way back to the Circus' campground--

Wait. 

That sounded liked an airship engine.

++++

"S-i-ster," the damaged Muse said. 

"Indeed," Klaus said. "I assure you, Tinka, that we will reunite Moxana with your...king, as soon as possible."

Klaus stared down through the window of the airship cabin as the stealth-dirigible coasted on muffled engines over the camp of Master Payne's Circus. He should be back on Castle Wulfenbach dealing with ever so many issues. There was bones of the clank that thought of itself as Anevka Sturnvoraus' to monitor for regeneration. Master DuMedd did have that in hand. There were meetings with the Dowager Princess of Sturmhalten to attend. Klaus shuddered at the memory the unease that the old woman inspired at him while grinning over her teacup. Black fire and slag, he hoped she did not recall a certain incident when he had attended one of her parties while still a student at Transylvania Polygnostic. Even today after a romantic career that had included Albia, he could not look too long at a fish slice without a certain terrified sexual longing. There was the audience with the Valois princess' brother about--

Yes. That was precisely why he had left a note on Gilgamesh' pillow while he slept telling him "you get to deal with this" before he had tiptoed through back corridors to the airship.

Sifu had always told him he needed a vacation. The prospect of spending five seconds in Martellus von bloody Blitzengaard's company meant that for once Klaus was taking that medical advice.

Besides, he would get to see a working Muse and a Heterodyne show in the bargain.

Some days, it was good to be the tyrant.


	4. Chapter 4

The open-topped wash tent was already pitched next to Baba Yaga by the time she got to camp. A bucket of hot water and a bucket of cold were waiting inside with soap and scrub brush. Humming in contentment, Agatha thoroughly scrubbed herself free of grime picked up from Zeetha"s morning torture--sorry, training--session. The shock of the cold water rinsing her clean banished the last of her exhaustion.

Wrapped up in oilcloth was one of the colorfully-embroidered peasant's dress and shirtwaist that she wore as everyday wear in the circus. There was also the stout trousers, thick socks, amd hiking boots that she wore in case she had to make a sudden departure. The green bodice she laced about her body has a small but complete toolkit sewen between the lining and outer layer. A slit in the skirt allowed her to reach the galvanic pistol holstered at her right hip.

Leaving the tent up for now, she walked to the rear of Baba Yaga where her "brother" had parked the tinker's wagon. There was a plate of Taki the cook's finest breakfast fixings covered with another placed on top on the workbench. Beside it were several tools that Moloch had laid out for repair work on a mechanikox. He had taken off the right-side plating of the clank draft animal. Olga sat atop the roof of the wagon laying out an elaborate Tarot spread.

"Stupid freaking thing." Moloch braced himself as he hauled on a nasty tangle of gears. "At least with a real ox, you can head out to the barn with a sledgehammer if the larder runs low."

"Let me see that." Agatha set aside her plate. "Oh, yes, this could do with _a little reorganization_."

"No you don't." Moloch whipped out to threaten her with a canteen. "Sit down. Eat. I could hear your stomach rumbling a hundred meters away."

"Are you sure you won't play the Head Minion on stage?" Olga began playing three-card monte with the Major Arcana.

"Babe, I love ya. But that's not funny." Moloch disassembled the control unit. "Minions are drooling idiot yes-master types or dopey constructs like Punch and Judy."

"Punch and Judy were nothing like that," Agatha said. "A--I mean, Punch liked reading philosophy in the evenings. Judy is an accomplished pianist."

"You happen to know Punch and Judy," Moloch said in a monotone.

"By reputation," Agatha added hastily. "There were, ah, older residents in Beetleburg who knew them when the Boys were attending TPU."

"That fits." Olga studied a card. "Pix once told me that Punch and Judy were the Fools of the play: simple yet pointing out the obvious to all the so-called smart people."

"Olga, I swear, she means nothing to me!" Moloch hyperventilated.

"Moloch, I'd never ask you to abandon your Spark." Olga jumped down gracefully. "I know we're going to part ways in Mechanicsburg. Let's enjoy what we have until then."

Moloch numbly accepted the card she handed to him.

It was Atlas the Worldbearer.

"Moloch, I never expected you to--" Agatha began.

"If you're as connected as I think you are," Moloch growled, "then my drinks get comped at any bar your territory. Even the hard stuff on the top shelf."

"Understood." Agatha considered. "I assume you still want the ludicrous amount of money."

"Hell yes." Moloch sighed. "Finish your grub and work with me on this mess like you"re itching to."

As terrible as she felt about it, Agatha could not help a silent sigh of relief when she finally went to work with Moloch. Working with him as a partner made life in the Circus so much more satisfying. She never could collaborate for long with the other Sparks due to the mismatch between her gift and theirs. The Countess had once quietly told her that working with her was "edfying yet terrifying at the same time". Hmmmph. One would think that they would enjoy having their theories torn apart and then reworked before their very eyes into glittering, abstract constructs of logic and reason. She had gotten along better this time around by having the locket dialed up. The incrementally-increased suppression kept her grounded without dulling her mind. Still, she did not have a constant partner among the Circus' geniuses. Zeetha was her _kolee_. She also however was quite clear that she was not into the "madgirl stuff". As amazing as her little clanks were, they were not the most brilliant of conversationalists.

Von Zinzer meshed with her in a way that she only had experienced those very few times with Gil. There was not the white-hot <strike>attraction</strike> sense of someone mad and intelligent and brave adding his gift to hers in a wild fantasia of creation. No, Moloch would never be that to her. He was instead the calming hands that she remembered from childhood. Adam would indulge her in "playing mechanic" even though the headaches always came. She hoped Adam and Lilith were alright. She had deliberately left with only a note saying that she was safe slipped under their door by one of her clanks. She couldn't risk them getting killed like the last time. Better they stay safe--if worried--while she took the risks. With Moloch, it was almost like those times she worked in the shop with Adam. But she was smart and functional and _able to consider how easy it would be to rework the mechanikox into a capture-clank that would march right up the aisle when the priest asked if anyone objected **and the bull would charge down to the altar to spirit away Gil from whatever vapid noble girl he was being forced to marry--**_

PHHHHHSSSSTTTT.

Moloch was also very handy with a seltzer bottle.

Hmmm. She could convince Olga that she could run her scams and fortune-teller act in Mechanicsburg on the hoards of tourists. There was no chance of Olga leaving the Circus. But the troupe members often seperated a touch when Master Payne wintered in Bucarest or Beograd. There were still tourists in fall and even winter these days; experiencing Krampusnacht in Mechanicsburg was a fashionable thing for the more decadent visitors around Yule. Olga might spend the winter working in the bar--a place called "Mamma's" apparently--where Agatha was being installed as the establishment's pianist. Ah, perfect! Olga would work her schemes as a waitress. Agatha would pose as a long-lost daughter of the town coming home. Moloch could take up a position as brewer and distiller. The Jaegers were very appreciative of his drink-making skills. They said they had never encountered drinks like his before. All the while, she could slowly learn about her town and work on repairing the ancient stronghold of her house.

Not to mention repairing all the defenses on the town walls. The sabotage that the Baron had had done to them was shocking.

If he showed up right now, she would so give him a piece of her mind.

The clanking of treads and the chuff of a steam engine on the road running by the stream in the center of the little valley they had camped him brought her out of her light fugue. Moloch continued easing the revamped control unit into the mechanikox when Agatha peered about it to see whoever was coming. From around the bend came a half-tracked transport that appeared to have been made from the chassis of an Imperial s_onderkraftfahrzeug_ mated to an elegant saloon body similar to the one that she had been taken to Sturmhalten Castle. Agatha took a step back when she saw that posted on the running boards and in the driver's compartment were Lackya in Wulfenbach livery. No. That was impossible. The Baron could not know of her existence. She had been assured that the generals had done everything they could to conceal the source of the intelligence about the Other's activities in Sturmhalten. He might have a look out for one Agatha Clay, though. She was already calculating if she could duck into Baba Yaga to grab her bug-out bag before running into the woods when the fancy steamwagon stopped in the middle of the road.

A twitching, porcelain-clad figure in a folk-dancer's dress was conducted out by a Lackya as if she were an empress.

"TINKA!" Agatha screamed, barely noticing the jaeger obviously assigned as her guard slipping out of the passenger compartment behind her.

+++++

It was a good thing that jaegers were prone to fangy grins even in the most formal of occasions. Klaus could not help a massive grin quite at odds with his usual scowl as the heartfelt reunion took place right before his eyes. Really, he had no idea why Boris had begged him to reconsider this plan. It was working perfectly. There were enough jaegers who retained their original human skin tone that he did not have to bother applying scales or fur. All he really had to do was graft a pair of ram's horns onto his skull, slip on some fangs, and _tok in dot outrageous akkcent vile mugging it op_ while dressed in a spare uniform taken as loot from that fight with D'Omas. It was an amusing imposture to play on a pack of carnies who had been playing purloined letter right under his nose for nearly two decades. It also gave them a chance to celebrate with the stolen troupe member without having to worry about the Big Bad Baron being nearby. This was why he was in disguise after having offloaded the transport onto the road a few kilometers away. No sense in panicking these commoners.

Gotterdammerung, it was just like being the the TPU Amateur Dramatics and Beer Drinking Society all over again.

Odd, though. The strawberry-blonde girl was giving him a look as if she expected something--

Ah. One of those women. Or since he was being in character, _vimmin._ Klaus could not help bending over to slobber over her hand while winking in a most improper manner. Not that Klaus intended to dally with some lesser Spark girl who fancied monsters for mates. He was after all a married man. For a moment, Klaus thought she had seen through his disguise. It was as if she were expecting something more of him after he kissed her hand. Then she turned away to join in the general celebration that had brought Tinka back among her people. Klaus took the opportunity to wander about like the jovial, stupid thug that he seemed to be while examining the work of these minor Sparks that Tinka had told him of. For the most part, it was what he expected of small talents forced to source their parts from Wastelands scrap. They would have not been a threat even if he had revealed himself. Oh, he had two platoons of marines aboard the stealth-dirigible that was holding an orbit above the campsite behind a smokescreen resembling a cloud. 

Wait.

Klaus narrowed his eyes when he saw that steam-organ--

This was _not_ minor Sparkwork.

He had always had an artist's eye for individual styles. Every Spark bore the imprint of their family and their most influential teachers. The steam-organ might have been knocked together from scrap parts. But while not as accomplished as an experienced Spark, this was work far above the skills of anyone in Master Payne's Heterodyne-show company. In fact, he saw threads of the style of this instrument's creator running through much of the other troupe member's devices. The most prominent influence was Tarsus Beetle's. It was not simply someone who had picked up the influence third-hand by attending TPU. This had been the work of an apprentice studying for years under a master. There was another motif that was achingly familiar that he could not quite place. And--by Hephaestus, there were aspects of _Van Rijn himself_ that had been incorporated into the organ that was so very much like he had seen in the ruined bits of Contasia on display in the Louvre.

Tarsus Beetle had had a private secretary who had been notorious for her clumsiness and wasted potential.

In spite of the fires that had consumed both TPU's records and Beetle's notes, there had been enough to create a portrait of the girl from a single burned picture and from interviews with her teachers. She had been low-priority to be found for questioning and processing. But now--

There was the distinct sound of a galvanic-based death ray powering up behind him.

"Hello, Baron," said the girl who was supposedly Agatha Clay. "Let's walk to the chicken-house _so we can have an overdue chat._"

"Ho yez, 'brodder'." A green-furred jaeger flipped a throwing knife. He was leaning against the side of the Russian-themed walking hut. "Ve do not vants to interrupt de goot peeple here sayink hello to de clockvork gorl."

Klaus almost gave the subtle sign for the observer above to begin an immediate extraction under cover of C-gas bombardment.

"_You owe me big, Baron. And we have things to settle between us about my town._"

Klaus straighened up. He tipped his hat.

"Of cawze...Mistress Heterodyne."


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey, Moloch," Olga said.  
  
"Hey yourself." Moloch ran a hand through his hair. "Look, no hard feelings on my side. You have your life. And I am oh black fire and slag condemned by a blind idiot god to my fate--"  
  
"Babe?" Olga rubbed circles on Moloch's back. "All will be well."  
  
"That's the blatant bullshit that you tell every mark." Moloch paused. "Eh, I’ll take it."  
  
"That’s my guy." Olga pointed at Agatha. "I wasn't here about us. Master Payne wants your lady to know that he would appreciate her holding off killing the Baron until we're well down the road."  
  
"That's the--" Moloch grunted. "Yeah, I thought that 'jaeger' was too stagey."  
  
"It's never about the make-up," Olga agreed.  
  
"Uh, I think Her Nibbs is in an ‘angry but gonna talk’ mood." Moloch shuddered. "Trust me, I know that one from personal experience."  
  
"Okay. Look, we get sometimes it has to be done," Olga said. "The Master and the Countess handle problems every couple of seasons or so. But the Baron isn't some pushy stage-door Johnny who went too far."  
  
"Got it. I'll let her know." Moloch strode off, grumbling. "Do this, do that, make sure she doesn’t murder the freaking tyrant who rules us all, do I ever get any time off? Noooo."  
  
+++++  
  
Agatha was quite aware that the death-ray aimed at the Baron from within its holster beneath her skirt was false comfort. This was Klaus Wulfenbach. She had seen him almost effortlessly beat Othar Trygvassen into Castle Wulfenbach's deckplates. Before she could depress the trigger, the Baron could likely cut off her hand with that backsword sheathed at one hip. Then he would fight off all four jaegers, command a concealed flotilla to drop in, and then conquer a small principality just for the hell of it. The elegant yet practical galvanic pistol in hand would be about as useful as Princess Stompyboots.  
  
Actually Princess Stompyboots would be more useful, Especially if Agatha slipped a horseshoe into the doll as Lilith had as a precautionary measure.  
  
But.  
  
He might actually be here to talk. He had apparently preferred to give even Doctor Beetle a chance to come clean before Merlot had ruined it all. He had come incognito with only Lackya as overt guards in a single steam-wagon. Of course, there had to be at least one airship providing cover and support somewhere in the local airspace. Said airship had not immediately turned her into goulash with a machine-cannon when she was quite obviously holding a concealed weapon on the Baron. So peace might be possible. Gil would also be sad if she crushed him with the surprises in the Circus' wagons.  
  
Frantic whispering in her ear when Moloch caught up with her warned of Master Payne's concerns.  
  
She shifted her aim to his kneecaps as a concession.  
  
There. She could be forgiving.  
  
++++++  
  
Lilith's books of etiquette would have demanded that she have tea and biscuits out as a young lady entertaining an older man in her home. They also would have insisted on a chaperone. The chaperones were covered. The Jaegers could be seen peering through Baba Yaga's windows. Fust was looming behind the Baron chuffing in the man's ear as a reminder that she had a jaeger-bear poised to eat his head. For herself, she stood with the door to the driver's seat right behind her with a galvanic rifle in hand.  
  
Tea? Tea was soothing. She preferred to be tense, thank you very much.  
  
So. Hmmm. What would those etiquette manuals suggest to start off the final confrontation with your nemesis?  
  
Small talk?  
  
"How did you know I was a Heterodyne?" Agatha asked.  
  
"There had to be a female heir." The Baron's voice boomed in the confines of Baba Yaga even though his tone was soft. "Only a daughter would provide the compatibility for Lucrezia--who I have suspected for a long time was the Other--to possess as a host. That the Jaegergenerals insisted that they completely trusted the source of intelligence about Sturmhallten clinched it."  
  
"WIth me being a female Spark with a jaeger backing her also providing a clue," Agatha said.  
  
"I commend you on your acting prowess," the Baron said. "To convince everyone you were the clumsy minion is a performance worthy of--"  
  
"Spare me the tests. I am not Gil." Agatha gritted her teeth. "Stop trying to provoke me."  
  
"You speak very familiarly of my son," The Baron leaned forward ever so slightly.  
  
That was when she snapped up the muzzle of the death ray.  
  
"You don't have to worry about me upsetting your arranged marriage," Agatha said. "We never met this time around."  
  
"'This time'." The Baron's eyes widened. "Of course. Doctor Zardeliv said there was a temporal component to that blasted device of hers. If it malfunctioned in a certain way--"  
  
"I have no idea if my mind was sent back," Agatha said. "Or I died like all the rest of Aaronev's victims, and this is my original mind with memories from my dead future self."  
  
"That explains so much." Klaus glowered. "You need to be under observation. You have been exposed to her."  
  
"Perfect excuse to 'examine me' like you intended to do with my Master?" Agatha slipped her finger into the triggger-guard. "Yes, there are echoes. Dreams. I have to have a friend watch over me every night so that I'm terrified that they are more than echoes of _my own mother who _**_raped me worse than that soldier ever could have in that alley_**."  
  
Agatha held back the tears. They would obscure her sight picture.  
  
The Baron just sat there.  
  
What was he thinking? Was he deciding if he should risk killing her?  
  
"May I address you as 'Agatha'?" the Baron asked, very softly. "I understand I have not earned the right. But I believe it ease matters."  
  
"You actually want to talk." Agatha snorted. "Last time, you decided to have me sedated while you bullied information out of Adam and Lilith."  
  
"Perhaps I do not wish to commit errors I might have made." The Baron sighed. "And while not nearly as severe as your own, I know all to well the sting of betrayal from that woman. Please. You are my best friend's daughter."  
  
Agatha stared at the Baron for a very long time.  
  
Then, she took a seat across from him before beginning her tale.  
  
++++  
  
_Oh, god dammit me_.  
  
Klaus listened in horrified silence as Agatha Heterodyne recounted in precise detail how he had completely destroyed any trust she might have had in him. This was even worse than the time he had told Albia that he felt stifled in their relationship. Granted, there had been contributing factors outside his control. He still could not comprehend why Barry had not come to him for help. The girl had had to live crushed by that locket of hers. Not to mention the opportunities to study such an early breakthrough. It had been Tarsus' choice to delve into forbidden technology. It had been Von Pinn's escalation that had lead to--sickening image--Punch and Judy's deaths.  
  
But it had been on a bored, arrogant Klaus Wulfenbach who had ordered the unconscious girl who he had supposed was this Moloch's lover as a hostage. Oh. And apparently he had left he helpless and unconscious locked in the same room as a man who might have done anything to her out of revenge. He had also sent Bangladesh Dupree--who had approached the task with her usual tact and grace-- to fetch her back after Agatha had fled Castle Wulfenbach. If Boris heard about this, he would break out the Sock Puppets of Instruction and the Extremely Sarcastic Voice. Klaus wondered if there was a steam-powered foundry hammer and an avil he could lay his head down on.  
  
"Correlation is not causation," Agatha finished. "I do admit the sample size is small. Yet, you have to admit that when you come into my life, things never go well for me."  
  
"Nothing terrible has happened yet," Klaus pointed out.  
  
"Give it time," Agatha replied. "I expect that in the next half hour most of my friends will be dead and the Circus on fire. _Get away from me and mine, Baron_."  
  
"I only came her to bring Tinka to visit her former companions." Klaus stayed very still. This really was like that last breakfast with Albia. "She has requested that Moxana be brought to Prince Tarvek Sturmvoraus who she recognizes as her king."  
  
"It had better be voluntary on both their parts." Agatha frowned. Then she slid open a drawer containing undergarments. "Here. Tarvek will need this to repair the Muses. I transcribed my own copy.”  
  
"I see where the influence of Van Rijn came from in the organ.” Klaus reverently picked up the notebook covered in brown leather. “You are a musician, then? Gilgamesh has some facility with composition.”  
  
“He had such a lovely mechanical orchestra,” Agatha said. She smiled sadly. “Not half bad as a dancer, either. Terrible at marriage proposals.”  
  
“HE WHAMMMMPHHH!” Klaus crossed his arms until the bear released his head from its jaws. “Apologies. Indoor tone. He did what?”  
  
“‘Let’s go grab an airship. We can be married before he catches us’,” Agatha quoted. “‘He was talking about marrying me off anyway, so serve him right if I do it myself.’”  
  
“On behalf of my empire, my house, and myself, I apologize.” Klaus hung his head.  
  
“Don’t. In hindsight, it was sweet.” Agatha looked away. “Will he be happy with her?”  
  
“Xerxsephnia von Blitzengaard appears to be socially and politically astute,” Klaus said. “I have lectured her on the duties expected to her as the wife to my heir. I was brain coring her uncle Junius at the time to encourage her to take such advice seriously.  
  
“Good. One less suitor seeking my hand, the better,” Agatha said. “I asked if he will be happy.”  
  
“His happiness is less relevant than his safety,” Klaus said. “Everything is secondary to that. If marrying the princess means the so-called ‘reformist’ Storm Lords grant him legitimacy, then so be it.”  
  
“That’s why you were against me,” Agatha said. “It was never about the peace. It was about Gil.”  
  
“I would burn down this continent, to keep him safe,” Klaus said. “But in this time, you saved the empire and my son from the machinations of Lucrezia. For that, I will consider my, shall we say, regency of Mechanicsburg at an end.”  
  
“Just like that,” Agatha said.  
  
“It’s good to be a tyrant,” Klaus admitted. He stood. “If--if some day you find yourself able to put aside your hatred of me--”  
  
“I don’t hate you, Baron,” Agatha said. “Not like _her_.”  
  
“You are the last link I have of my friends,” Klaus said. “It pains me actions I took, even in a past I never knew, has cut that link.”  
  
There was a time when one had to walk away. Generally before the enraged god-queen ejected you from her kingdom via tsunami.  
  
“Wait.” Agatha laid a hand on his arm. “You flew all this way. You might as well see a Heterodyne show.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning: Anevka has been busy with the scalpels, so body horror is alluded to.
> 
> EDIT: certain elements regarding the use of transgender surgery have been removed. While I could see Anevka doing it, it has been pointed out that it might be a bit much given the general tone of the story.

Gil eased his flying engine--_it worked_\--up towards the hook dangling from a cable projecting out a landing bay on the underside of Castle Wulfenbach. Turbulence was not too bad. No-one was trying for a pot-shot at him. The steel triangle mounted just behind the cockpit hit the trap- hook almost near the apex. Gil eased off the throttle when the hook snapped shut with a _clack_. A pulley drew up the engine into the massive airship that was the capital of the Wulfenbach empire.  
  
Zoing wheepled a greeting from the control of the landing-crane. His construct friend jerked a lever with a claw to close the doors in the deck. Another lever sent the flying engine to the landing spot chalked out near a workbench. Skillful fingers slipped under his leather jacket to work at his shoulders while he furled the winged into their storage configuration. Gil almost tightened them up in protest before deliberately letting them do their work. It was not her fault, he told himself. They were both victims of circumstances.  
  
He plastered an appropriately cocky smile on his lips. It was the same one that had shown up in so many photographs on the front pages on the Parisian _journeaux_. Xerxsephnia von Blitzengaard smiled back with all the apparent enthusiasm of a young lady enamored with her betrothed. Which he was. To her. If he didn't remind himself of that, she would make sure to do it herself in ever so many ways. She certainly looked good today: all bright blue eyes and scarlet hair and trim body encased in a clinging one-piece flight suit. The leather helmet with its goggles was tilted just so.  
  
"That was marvelous," Xerxsephnia said. "This really is the future of aviation."  
  
"Just a prototype," Gil said. "It's a proof-of-concept to demonstrate the viability of heavier-than-air flight."  
  
"This will be The Thing, I assure you." Xerxsephnia kissed him. "I am doubly honored that I was the first girl you've taken for a flight. Aren't I?"  
  
_Well, your people killed any girl sparks who might have really appreciated it, didn't they?_  
  
"Hey, how could I resist you when you asked so nicely?" Gil did the expected thing of slipping arms about her waist.  
  
"Ah-ah, not yet." Xerxsephnia grinned. "Unless you want us to elope."  
  
"Mechanicsburg is couple of hours away," Gil said. "We could do a quickie ceremony in the Red Cathedral to get it over it."  
  
"Good thing I wasn't expecting romance going in," Xerxsephnia replied. She chucked him under the chin. "Admit it. I bore you."  
  
"No! You're definitely not boring!" Gil cast about for a way to salvage things. "You're witty, you love Paris, you spotted that loose wire--"  
  
"Well, that's something." Xersephna cupped his cheek. "I have an advantage here. I always expected an arranged marriage. What I did not expect was to have such a good man as my betrothed."  
  
"And I, ah, find you an excellent companion," Gil said. "I feel like we could be friends like I was with Colette. You're everything a guy should want, ah....Seffie?"  
  
"It gets easier each time." Xerxsephnia gazed up him adoringly. "Together, we will redeem the legacy of the House of Valois and strengthen the Empire. And perhaps, Saint Teodora willing, we will find something for ourselves."  
  
Gil kissed her.  
  
She seemed happy with that.  
  
He sat down on a crate watching her skip away out of the lab.  
  
A claw handed him a mug with oversweetened tea with a hint of jam coming from the steam rising out of it.  
  
"Ulikkadegorl?" Zoing asked.  
  
"She really is what every man should want," Gil said.  
  
He sipped the tea, then shrugged.  
  
"Could be worse. It's not like I have any choice."  
  
"Eeeeeeeeeee."  
  
++++++  
  
Tarvek had had a plan. No. He had had a scheme. It had been a marvel of cold logic and devious complexity. It had been a masterpiece of political theater and political maneuver. With it, he would have taken the Lightning Crown and saved his sister and banished the Other and had his line of evening wear acclaimed by Paris as the _derniere mot_ of fashion and would have revealed it all in its cunning glory with his pince-nez adjusted just so to let the light sparkle off then with a soundless _ting_. He had practiced analyzing the play of light and shadow to pull it off in any environment.  
  
And then the Baron has slammed into his machinations like a laudanum-addled hippopotamus ravishing a mecha-dolphin. Balan's Gap was now occupied by troops supplied by Mechanicsburg. It seemed the Baron had wanted to ensure that those guarding the remains of what had once been the Other's stronghold had no possibility of secret loyalties to Lucrezia. It also meant that the linchpin of the hundred-kilometer ring of containment fortress around the Heterodyne lands was now under _de facto_ Mechanicburg control. The noble House of Sturmvoraus was forever smeared with the taint of the Other. The House of Blitzengaard was of course the courageous rebels secretly undermining the rot in the Knights of Jove. Seffie had been sweet about it. Tweedle had been smug.  
  
Still, there were some faint pleasures to be had besides designing the cocked hat that the Baron had tupped Tarvek's entire life work into. Tarvek cinched the straps down hard onto his father's wrists and ankles. Anevka had left him with enough intelligence to appreciate the ironic horror of his plight. He was about to have the chance to meet his beloved Lucrezia personally...as a potential host body. Martellus was setting the thermal charges to go off once the Beacon Engine was activated. The order to destroy the thing had come in just the last hour. Tarvek thought it was long-overdue.  
  
"Jaron found her lair," Martellus muttered, as he set a charge under the throne itself. "Lost an entire team of smoke knights, but he came out with enough of her notes."  
  
"Thank you." Tarvek tamped down the nausea. "Your majesty."  
  
"There, was that so hard?" Martellus smiled in that amiable, noble-in-victory smirk that invited sulfuric acid baths. "And I in turn proclaim you my Master of Muses."  
  
"Words fail me to describe how I cherish such a gesture," Tarvek said.  
  
"You will be acclaimed as Van Rijn's heir." Martellus set the final detonator in place. "Anevka will be able to take possession of her new body. All of your house's indiscretions will be attributed to your father."  
  
"I hope you have a chance to speak with the Mistress," Tarvek said, applying a gag to his father. "Tell her that your children send her your regards."  
  
"Along with dear Terebithia, of course." Martellus stood. "Well, let's get this farce over with."  
  
"Agreed." Tarvek frowned. "Did Jaron find evidence of Otilia in the lair?"  
  
"Er." Martellus winced. "Well, the man had no choice--"  
  
It required all of Tarvek's self-control not to break down in tears. Of course, the mendacious sow who his father had worshiped had used an irreplaceable Van Rijn masterpiece as a prison for a fragment of Castle Heterodyne. Madame Von Pinn would be livid at finding out that Jaron had been forced to bury her clank form under several tons of rubble. The fragment of the castle had not been stable even by the standards of its usual instances. Seeing smoke knights had triggered a rampage that had slaughtered the remaining members of the Night Master's team before he had escaped through the explosions. Poor Von Pinn! It had damn near broken her to defy Lucrezia's orders to reveal herself to Tinka. It had taken weeks to weed them out by the authority of the Storm King granted to him by Tinka's recognition.  
  
And now she would be bereft of her true form until they could dig it out from the homicidal pile of masonry in Mechanicsburg.  
  
Tarvek and Martellus each turned keys in the arming box that within the armored section of the lab where the Beacon Engine was confined. There was no sense tempting Anevka more than necessary. His sister was attired in mourning blacks and a veil as she chatted with the bearer of her catafalque; Tarvek had sent her to “sleep" while her body had been removed for reconstitution. She tittered at Sergeant Jorgi's leering suggestions with a flirtatious snap of her razor-edged fan at his jugular for good measure. It said something about his current predicament that the scene was more palatable than who she plotted on snaring. Would the Baron be a brother- or father-in-law if-- Argh. Well, his sister did have every right to spite their about-to-be-late _pater_.  
  
"It is quite hard to believe that this is over," Anevka said. In the palm of one hand was a miniature plunger-detonator. "Perhaps we should put Lady Vrin in first, then attend to Papa."  
  
"You can't, dear sister," Tarvek said. "You transformed her into a coatrack."  
  
"That I did." Avenka winked at Jorgi. "And one must always have a place to hang one's hat." 

"Hyu got dot right," Jorgi said. "Ve sent her to de cloakroom of Mamma's."  
  
"I hope you won't mind if I take her back once I am flesh again," Anevka sad. "There is a reason why she doubles as a tailor's mannequin. Tarvek will need one for the shop in Mechanicsburg that he will retire to."  
  
"Ho, could you finish this already?" Martellus called out. "I have a hunt to attend."  
  
"I should have brain-cored Tweedle instead of Junius." Anevka offered up the ceremonial detonator. "Care to share in sending off Pappa to his eternal reward?"  
  
"You are too kind."  
  
"Liar." Anevka took one side of the T-shaped handled between thumb and finger. "On three?"  
  
"Indeed." Tarvek took the other branch of the handle.  
  
"One"  
  
"Two"  
  
"Three."  
  
**_FOOOM!_**  
  
_(ting)_


	7. Chapter 7

"So, everything friendly?" Moloch asked.  
  
"Things were a little tense." Agatha glanced at the shovel and bag of quicklime half-hidden behind a nearby tree. "My great-great uncle and I have come to an understanding."  
  
"So you're from the Mechanicsburg side of Dad's family." Moloch held out a hand. "Brother by another mother. Dad sure got around. You must be Uncle Claws, eh?"  
  
"This is not fooling anyone, is it?" the Baron sighed.  
  
"What, you thought some surgery and a bad accent would fool us?" Agatha shook her head. "Let me guess, there was no way a pack of carnies could possibly penetrate your clever disguise."  
  
"You might as well call me Uncle Chomp, then." The Baron shook his head.  
  
"Cute," Moloch said. "The name fits."  
  
"Could you let Master Payne know that uncle will be traveling with us at least to the next town?" Agatha said. "He was ordered to guard Tinka. And he and I plan on working out our differences."  
  
"Oh, yeah, Payne’ll love this," Moloch muttered. "See you around, chu--I mean, Chomp."  
  
Moloch headed for Master Payne's wagon while the other two walked to the props wagon.  
  
Perched out of sight, Zeetha's nerveless hands fell from the hilts of her _qattaras_ as she mouthed a word over and over.  
  
+++++  
  
She was going to send a few suggestions to Princess Anevka about how to punish her father over what he had done to Tinka. She had never asked Jenka how she communicated with the jaegergenerals aboard Castle Wulfenbach. Agatha suspected that she had a miniature tellurian-wave transceiver somewhere; one could transmit for quite a distance with one as long as one stuck to flash-code. It would certainly take Jenka quite a bit of time to send off all the things that should happen to the _idiot who had bodged up almost everything within this poor clank._  
  
Agatha cranked up the locket's suppression to its maximum as she examined Tinka's cognitive core. She could not afford to lose herself in an enraged fugue with such fragile mechanisms at her fingertips. She felt a cloth dab away the sweat from her brow. She almost thanked Moloch before remembering he was driving Baba Yaga for her at the moment. Agatha glanced to one side where "Uncle Chomp" was standing beside and just behind her in the customary minion's position. She had expected him to take charge the moment she had powered Tinka down for the examination Instead, he had been content to assist and watch. Was this a test? Gil had said that he constantly tested people. Or was he studying her Spark at work?  
  
Well, for once the man had behaved himself. There had been no airship fleet swooping down to kidnap her. He had allowed her to watch in the presence of her jaegers when he had flashed a heliograph message by mirror to the stealth-dirigble that was nearby. The message had been an order to Boris Dolokhov to have the Beacon Engine destroyed. No-one she loved was dead. Nothing was on fire. Quashing her unease at being so close to him, she slipped back on the magnifying goggles to peer closer at a certain misaligned cog. A hum escaped her lips as she noted how if one shifted the cog _so and reworked that lever a bit to the left and it was done all at the same time to avoid causing more damage to ripple out._ A baker's dozen of her little clanks emerged from the walls of the wagon at a slight modulation of her hum.  
  
_She directed them to take their places and flourished a wrench like the wand of some wizard of old and _**_together they moved as one_**.  
  
***CLACK***  
  
"Ah." Tinka convulsed. "AH."  
  
"Are you alright?" Agatha asked.  
  
"I am." Tinka blinked slowly once, then twice. "Bettter. Slow. But. Clear."  
  
"You sound sluggish," Agatha said. "Can you move? Stand?"  
  
"Yes." Tinka stood upright with slow grace, as she were underwater. Her pirouette was as if she were half-asleep. "I am now. Better. To serve my king."  
  
"We will get you to Tarvek for a proper repair." Agatha secured the back of her skull. "There is only so much I can do with the tools at hand."  
  
"I thank. You. My lady." Tinka moved with deliberate grace to where Moxana rested in silence. "I must. Rest. For my king."  
  
Agatha sighed. There was still so much to llearn about Van Rijn's--  
  
The Baron was staring at her clanks.  
  
Drat.  
  
"Fascinating." The Baron examined them with a mixture of awe and glee. "So simple, yet capable of assisting with the most advanced sparkwork. It must take you ages to craft each one."  
  
"They self-replicate, actually." It was time to apply a test of her own. "One primary can spawn a swarm of about two hundred or so. The main limitation is decreased capability with each generation."  
  
"When do they become useless?" The Baron had seized a clank and popped open its back. "Marvelous. Tarsus could not have taught a finer successor."  
  
"Seventh generation is the current limit, after incorporating ideas from the notes," Agatha crossed her arms. "You are very calm, considering the threat these might pose."  
  
"I have technologies far worse than these in the Black Archive," the Baron said. "All from Sparks who posed a threat and do not any more. It was what you represented that I would have seen as a threat, not your capabilities."  
  
"The rogue Heterodyne. My mother's daughter." Agatha reflexively ground her right foot into the floor. Lucrezia's portrait from the locket was tucked in the heel.  
  
"I did not see her in you just now." The Baron smiled wistfully. "You reminded me of Bill, actually, when he was working at his desk in the rooms we shared at TPU."  
  
"All I know of my father are the popular tales." Agatha touched the locket. She had left his picture inside. "I never had a chance to know him as a person."  
  
"He would have been proud of you." the Baron said. "Perhaps not so pleased you are comfortable around the jaegers."  
  
"He disliked them?" Agatha asked.  
  
"He loathed them," Klaus said. "He was polite to them. But he was always aware--as I am--that among the servants of the Old Masters, they made a conscious choice to indulge the evils of the Heterodynes. Not that he was too fond of Mechanicsburg either."  
  
"I know they are monsters," Agatha said. "They are still the monsters sworn to my house. The jaegers and the town need me. I can't turn them away just like that."  
  
"That is why I know you are not your mother," Klaus said. "Lucrezia might have used this circus as a cover for her activities. She would never have bothered to seek them out."  
  
"Baron." Agatha drew a deep breath. "Klaus. I know you are quite busy. But would you have time tonight after the show to tell me about my father and uncle?"  
  
"It would be my pleasure, Agatha."  
  
She was half-tempted to ask him to travel with the Circus for a while. Imagining Master Payne's face when telling him that Klaus Wulfenbach was joining the troupe in disguise as a jaeger put paid to that mad thought. Still, it would not be suspicious if the Baron--Klaus--visited Mechanicsburg a fair bit. He might even go for a drink at a bar from time to time where a certain young lady was engaged as a piano player. Nothing suspicious about Uncle Chomp talking with his great-great grand-niece. As long as he behaved himself and did not--  
  
The door of the props wagon opened.  
  
Klaus turned to face to see who it was.  
  
“**_SKIFF! ZA GENNA VARISH GILGAMESH!_**_”_  
  
With a roar, Klaus clamped Zeetha's throat in one hand while drawing his sword in the other.  
  
\--over-react for whatever reason that he usually did.


	8. Chapter 8

The first rule about Chump in Skiffander was that you did not talk about Chump.  
  
Zeetha had never been made to feel ashamed about her father. For one, she was really good at kicking the behinds of anyone among her peers who might have questioned the purity of her blood. The second reason was that Chump had left behind an impression when he had decided to head home to Europa. You could see the impacts of the Queenguards that he had slammed into the walls of the palace on his dynamic exit from Skiffander. (Mom was sentimental about him even now, even if she tried not to show it), The Queensguards themselves got _quiet_ about Chump. The priestesses paled when he mentioned his name.  
  
Mom?  
  
_Daughter, your father was a great warrior and my love. And quite worthy of the name he had chosen for himself when we first met._  
  
Mom could get a touch snarky about Dad.  
  
Zeetha mentally slapped herself upside the head the way Mom had asked her to do on her behalf if she ever found Dad. She should have put together the clues just as she had figured out Agatha's true lineage. Klaus Wulfenbach had disappeared right around the time he had been found hogtied and ballgagged before Luheia’s Mirror in the Great Temple. He had popped up starting his conquest of Europa not long after he had departed home at high speed. This Gilgamesh that Agatha was so stupid-sweet on sounded like he was her age.   
  
Oh.  
  
_Twin.  
  
_That explained a whole lot, actually.  
  
So, all the clues had been there. Zeetha had simply been too intent on finding a way home to even think about finding Dad. Watching Taki's performances of Klaus in the plays certainly didn't bring to mind the man who made Skiffandrians warriors go quiet in awe. Not to mention the fact that what little her aunts and older sisters had said about Chump was that he had been a total slacker with zero interest in court politics. What had settled it in Zeetha's mind was the way Klaus had said it: "You might as well call me Chomp". That was almost exactly like what he had said to Mom when they got off that ballgag.  
  
_"Just call me one big chump."_  
  
Zeetha polished her _qattarras_ to a mirror-finish before settling them into their scabbards. Every Skiffandruian warrior did that before a diplomatic meeting in case things became undiplomatic. Not that she expected it to go that way. "Hey, dad, long time no see," should put him off balance long enough that she could assure her the twin thing was not an issue. She grinned with a touch of fang. She owed Mom something. And if she had not been tainted by being his daughter, having him leave her behind when she was a month old had been a source of pain ever since she had been old enough to understand that. Making his heart stop for a second would be fitting. She should find a camera so she could take a tintype of the moment.  
  
The Circus had paused for a mid-morning stop to let the draft animals drink their fill from the stream running beside the road. Moloch had a hose in it using a pump to fill Baba Yaga's boilers. Oggie was the one stationed outside the props wagon. Pity it wasn't Dimo. They might had some time for some mild _cha-cha-cha_ until the two Sparks inside got tired of smacking their heads against the universe. Oggie cocked his head to tell her that she could go in. Great!. Zeetha smirked as she opened the door. She posed just so with arms across her chest as "Chomp" turned around to see who was coming in. Now, to time the revelation just right. She let the realization of what was standing before him sink in before she opened her mouth.  
  
"Hey---GLURRRRRRRK!"  
  
+++++++  
  
She had actually done it.  
  
Zantabruxus had sent agents to kill Gilgamesh.  
  
The rage that had consumed him when he had seen the Skiffandrian infiltrator had cooled to an icy determination by the time his hand had closed about her throat. Her foolish decision to mock him before striking had cost her dearly. He idly batted away her skilled _qattarra_ strikes and kicks as he marched out towards the steam-wagon that he had arrived in with Tinka. He was careful to only use the flat of the blade and judicious use of the point against the jaeger with the polearm. Killing one of Agatha's people would worsen what was already turning out to be a diplomatic disaster.  
  
It could not be helped.  
  
For what she had done, Klaus would throw this warrior to Anevka's tender mercies to force her to reveal the full extent of his wife's betrayal. He would hunt down every Skiffandrian if it meant giving the empire to Martellus von Blitzengaard. Then he would find precisely where Skiffander was so he could **_rewrite the laws concerning male twins in the blood of the priestesses in letters ten meters high on the burning ruins of their temples_**. Ah. The warrior had gone purple. Well, there were revival procedures even if brains were starved of oxygen. The Circus troupe was trying to intervene. The Lackya were doing well in keeping them away. Above them, the stealth-digible decloaked to lay down a C-Gas barrage to cover his extraction.  
  
Something screeched as it rose into the air. It was the chicken-egged clankhouse of Agatha's. With numb horror, Klaus realized that it now had plumed mechanical wings with a steam-rocket nozzle under each one. He could see her chief minion screaming as he dangled from a hose wrapped around his ankle as the clankhouse climbed high into the air. Massive steel claws gleamed as it dove down to rip a long gash along the side of the dirigible's gas bag. Crew and the marine contingent bailed out using ballutes that drifted everywhere.  
  
There was music.  
  
Agatha was at the Silverlodeon playing a wild, martial melody as _the wagons all around him transformed into battle clanks. By Zeus, Agatha was even stronger and more brilliant than he had thought. Her replicating minions must have done the work on the sly. And look, several of the wagon-clanks were combining into one single huge one in the manner of Mr. Tock. The titan lifted the Silverlodeon whole into a cavity in the "chest". Of course! How clever. She was using the Silverlodoen as a control mechanism. Spoked cartwheels became fingers and toes as it lumbered towards him asan enraged Agatha screamed at him to leave her _kolee_ alone--_  
  
_Kolee_?  
  
Oh.  
  
This might be even more of a problem than he had anticipated.  
  
"DAD!"  
  
What?  
  
"By Gwangi, Dad, stop!" the warrior shouted, having pried his fingers far enough apart to shout. "It's me! Zeetha! Daughter of Chump!"  
  
Daughter of--  
  
It was almost a godsend when the merry-go-round sent him catapulting into a tree five seconds later.


	9. Chapter 9

Moloch cowered inside Baba Yaga after clambering over the railing of the back porch. He hammered down the all-too-fresh memory of damn near clawing his way up empty air after the hose had finally ripped free. Think of the booze, Moloch told himself. Think of the money. Think of the fact that Her Nibbs would kill him last when she finally went spare and decided to conquer Europa. Nah, she would never do that. She was too much of a homebody. She'd be perfectly alright puttering about in a lab.  
  
Unless, you know, some jackass of a tyrant decided to set her off by the big honking trigger that was trying to kill one of her friends. Gah. He knew it had been too good to be true. Putting two sparks like the Baron and Her Nibbs within a kilometer of each other was asking for trouble. Eventually something would make them go sproing. And then you ending up at the end of a hose coiled about your ankle doing aerobatics. Gah. Was Her Nibbs okay? The Baron was a tough bastard. If she was hurt-- Moloch stood up resolutely. Then he puked out his breakfast because AHHHHHH HE WAS GONNA DIE!  
  
Wiping his mouth with one sleeve, he rooted around among the cupboards until her found the ballute pack stashed away. Then he eased himself out the front door on his butt until he could strap himself down on the driver's bench. He glanced at the controls that had automatically configured themselves for flight mode. Naaaaaah. As tempting as it was to hit the override and glide as far towards Paris as he could, he was better off not fiddling with them while Baba Yaga was stable under the Silverlodeon's control. The Yaga had taken an patrol pattern that was--arrrrrrgh!--remember what those airship guys always said, height is life.  
  
At keast he was well away from the battlefield. Always a nice position to be in. There were some binoculars tucked into a pouch under the bench for when some poor bastard got stuck up here. Lesse. Uh. Great, Olga and the other Circus people were safe in a ring of the Battle Circus' transformed wagons. The rest were stomping towards the airship crew and marines who had formed up a firing line. Ooof. They had one of those brass warclanks with the machine-cannons as fire support. What had been his tinker's wagon was shredded by a burst of 20mm shells. Hey! That was his ride!  
  
The firing line dove for cover they saw Agatha's giant clank bowl a barrel organ at them. It played a jaunty tune right up until it exploded after slamming into the fire-support clanks. You really had to hand it to that Imperial discipline. Those poor bastards down below retreated in good order rather than routing. Moloch sighed in relief when he saw the Battle Circus was chuking smokepots and fireworks at the Baron's troops. She wasn't too far gone to kill them out of hand. That meant the blowback would be way less.  
  
Speaking of blowback, he really hoped that the Baron hadn't ended up dead. A glance around the sky with the binoculars showed him that a lot of Wulfenbach airships had set courrse towards this little spot in the world. Baron. Where was the Baron? Oh sweet Saint Teodora, thank you, he was bashed up but seemed okay. He must have hit that tree really-- Moloch gulped when the tree he was wobbling to his feet under cracked at the base. The Baron had a second to look up before a whole lot of timber fell on top of him.  
  
Closing his eyes, Moloch spiraled down to the ground.  
  
Damn, why wasn't he heading for Paris?  
  
+++++  
  
"**_I have it! _**"  
  
Klaus groaned as the tree trunk was lifted off him by Agatha's giant clank.  
  
Why could it not have killed him so he would not have to face the humiliation of it all?  
  
"Dad!" His daughter with the handprint he had left about her throat. "Will he be alright?"  
  
"I have no idea!" Agatha knelt beside him with black medical bag in hand. "Just by looking at him, it would be a shorter list of what isn't wrong--_he's your father_?"  
  
"Meet Chump," Zeetha said.  
  
"It all makes sense," Agatha said. She was suddenly in his face screaming at the tiop of her lungs. "**_Because only a chump would ATTACK HIS OWN DAUGHTER LIKE A LUNATIC_**!"  
  
"He didn't know it was me," Zeetha said. "He thought I was sent by the priestesses to kill your Gil."  
  
"Kill him?" Even distracted, Bill's daughter did a professional assessment. "Sweet lightning, he needs immediate medical attention."  
  
"Twins are an ill-omen among us," Zeetha explained. "A male twin born to the line of queens is the worst you can think of. First time in our entire history, by the chronicles."  
  
"That does not excuse flying off the handle without even giving you a chance to speak!"  
  
"Hence, Chump."  
  
"Hey, your Nibbs!" Her chief minion ran up. "We better am-scray. Every Imperial ship is heading right here. We get caught anywhere near his corpse--"  
  
"Moloch." Agatha's voice took a note of command. "Prepare Baba Yaga for a ballistic trajectory flight. Boys, help him remove the hut."  
  
"Mistress," one of the jaegers said. "Ve must get hyu to de town."  
  
"Too far. He may die permanently if we leave him without treatment." Agatha scowled. "There is only one place in range that has the facilities to treat him."  
  
+++++  
  
Baba Yaga spread its wings out to their greatest span as the steam-jets under the wiings dropped away. A ballistic flight was one of the last-ditch escape plans. Moloch had once said he would rather die in one than try it. It meant using explosive bolts to blow off the hut and the legs while sending what little remained into a high-angle trajectory. The hut had been removed more gently and the connections to the legs unbolted. Now all that remained of the cantankerous chicken-clank caravan was the wagon bed and the bronze-feathered wings. It was now a pure glider with the jets and boiler tumbling down onto--Agatha peeked--an uninhabited valley below.  
  
Right before they had taken off, she had had a rather awkward conversation with Master Payne.  
  
Suffice it to say, he would never again pay any fees ever when in Mechanicsburg.  
  
Agatha forced herself to concentrate on the readings from the instruments attached to Klaus. She could not think of him as the Baron with Zeetha cradling his head in her lap. She muttered in her native language to him. A certain name that was not "Klaus" might have been used a fair bit. Agatha adjusted an intravenous drip. That seemed to stabilize him. Of course, "stable" in his condition meant "about to be processed for their organs" in anyone else. They needed to get him to a fully-equipped operating theater. The Great Hospital of Mechanicsburg might just be within range if they were willing to land just within the valley of the Dyne tens of kilometers away.  
  
Castle Wulfenbach was closer.  
  
She had been unconscious in the old time when brought aboard the kilometer-long airship. The two times she had seen it from the outside had been brief: once during the flight with Gil, and a backward glance when fleeing it with Krosp and Othar. In this time, she had plenty of time to watch as Castle Wulfenbach grew from a dot to its vast size surrounded by the tiny-by-comparison airships of the Imperial Luftflotte. They were streaming a white sheet daubed with a red trilobite behind them. A wireless emergency beacon from the crashed dirigible’s escape gig was broadcasting from its mount behind Moloch. The cannons of the fleet still swiveled to cover them as they approached.  
  
Winged demons flew off from ledges on Castle Wulfenbach’s envelope. Agatha caught her breath in wonder. They were gargoyles of brass and steel propelled by some sort of pulse-jet. Moloch whimpered as the guardian clanks seized the sides of their glider. Agatha busied herself readying Klaus for transport once they landed. The gargoyles guided them towards a hangar bay that slid open as they approached. Inside she could see a cohort of jaegers with General Khrizan standing at attention within.  
  
And beside him--  
  
“Gil,” Agatha whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

For proper dramatic flair, Gil would have slowly realized that she was his true love returned to him in spite of the barriers of time and dimension clouding his memory. Life was shockingly blind to narrative convention, sometimes. Agatha tested the steel restraints pinning her wrists behind her. Gil had not spared her a glance at her before rushing to his father's side. The jaegers had roughly grabbed all three of them and secured them a moment later. Now they sat under "guard" while Gil and a dozen of Imperial doctors assessed Klaus' condition.  
  
Agatha silently thanked her agreement with Klaus that her existence be kept strictly in confidence. If she were known as the Hereodyne, matters might have escalated into outright war if it were thought that she had ambushed Klaus out of calculation. She was merely yet another spark who had attacked the Baron. That meant at worst being sent to Castle Heterodyne...where she had been supposed to find sanctuary in the old time, anway. That was, if the transport taking her to Mechanicsburg did not conveniently crash with the loss of the prisoner on board.  
  
A few minutes later, Klaus was carried out on a gurney with an escort of jaegers pacing him. Gil did not follow.He stood there looking at all three of them leaning on a slim cane-- Interesting. It appeared to be a focus devce of some kind. Agatha quashed those thoughts. She was the Terrified Spark With Her Hand Caught In the Parts Jar. Keep to the role. Gil stood there for a while as he accepted a file from a unicycle-riding courier. He paced up and down for a moment before coming to a stop before her. He opened the file emblazoned with the arms of Transylvania Polygnostic.  
  
"Agatha Clay. Residence: 36 Forge Street," Gil read out. "Private secretary and laboratory assistant to Tarsus Beetle. Grades indicate an adequate understanding of theory while being disastrous at any practical demonstration."  
  
Red fire, she hated when he acted so domineering.  
  
"I see you have made some progress." Gil closed the file with a snap. "Beetle was hiding your spark, wasn't he?"  
  
"I had no idea," Agatha said. "All I saw was the Baron invading. Then I found out about the Hive Engine. I panicked. I started breaking through not long after."  
  
"Understandable that you might run." Gil nodded. "Understandable that you might be afraid when my father coincidentally decided to bring the Muse found in Sturmhalten to see her counterpart with that Heterodyne Show."  
  
Gil suddenly seized her by her collar, lifting her on tiptoe.  
  
"_What I do not understand is that, after apparently making peace with him, you decided to ambush him while bringing down an Imperial airship!"_  
  
_No one touched her like that. _  
  
_Not even Gil. Especially not Gil. _  
  
**_She was going to make sure that if he wanted to sire heirs on his insipid princess of a fiance, he was have to USE HIS TONGUE, THAT WAS HOW HARD HER KNEE WAS GOING TO_**\--  
  
"Schtop." General Khrizhan's hand clamped tight on Gil's wrist.  
  
"**_General, I am warning you_**."  
  
"Hyu varn notink, Meester Gilgamesh." Khrizhan deflty twisted Gil's hand away. "Hyu is angry. Hyu is vorried. Perhaps there might be more to this story, yez?"  
  
"Damn straight," Moloch piped up. He jerked his head at Zeetha. "See that hickey from hell? Dear old dad gave that to her with his fist. He freaked out when he saw her."  
  
"I was going to see how Agatha was doing with her uncle," Zeetha said. "Next thing I know, he's choking me about how I won't get his son and that someone called Zantabraxus won't win."  
  
"Your costume." Gil studied her. "What is it of?"  
  
"Warrior princess. It's my act." Zeetha cowered. "Skiffandrian warrior princess Zeetha. I heard a storyteller years ago tell stories about it. When I joined up, I used it for my act, played like I was really lost as part of it."  
  
"I see." Gil shifted his attention back to Agatha. "You still used overwhelming force against my father."  
  
"Is there any other way to stop him?" Agatha snapped. "He was attacking my friend for no reason I could fathom. I was not losing her to him as I did my master."  
  
"Ah. You have a point," Gil said "The tree?"  
  
"_Long-deserved karma coming due._"  
  
Gil matched her glare for a moment.  
  
Then he turned his back to her.  
  
"Get her out of my sight," Gil said. "Find someplace secure to keep the three of them until I figure out what to do with them."  
  
Agatha rubbed her wrists after the manacles came off. Two jaegers made a show of searching her carpet-bag for contraband while missing the notes--including Van Rijn's---sewn into the lining. A large jaeger with ram's horns bowed mockingly to the three of them. Feigning a dismissive sniff, she only risked looking behind her when they were out of the landing bay. Gil seemed engrossed with a puddle of Klaus' blood on the floor. Her stomach twisted. This was how they had met each other? This time, she was the one responsible for hurting his father instead of when they had met in her master's lab. Then the jaeger was shoving her down the corridor with a muttered apology.  
  
At least it was not the school. She could not imagine meeting Theo or Sleipnir or the rest as the girl who had nearly killed the Baron. The idea of seeing _that creature_ in charge of her was even worse. She would prefer languishing in whatever dungeon meant for her than that. However, it appeared that the jaegers were creatively interpreting Gil's orders. After a quarter-hour of walking, their gaoler led them into a side passage with steel doors lining the walls of the narrow corridor. Opening one on the far end revealed a cabin about the size of her old room in Forge Street. Four curtained berths were arranged two to each wall, one above the other, with a table between them. A half-open door revealed in a corner revealed a water closet with a sink in the wall beside it.  
  
"Hy am Rerich," the jaeger said, tipping its hat. "Hy heff to lock hyu in. Dun vorry, ve make sure hyu be hokay."  
  
"My compliments to the general," Agatha replied.  
  
"It eez gut to see hyu." Rerich seized her hand, nuzzling it. "Mistress."  
  
"Well, if the dreamboat that is my brother doesn't work out," Zeetha said, plopping onto a bottom berth, "you can always date Horny there."  
  
"I forgot how much of a jerk Gil could be," Agatha said.  
  
"That means there's fire." Zeetha waggled her eyebrows. "Slap-slap, kiss-kiss can be fun. And eventually you can break him in."  
  
"I may need a triphammer." Agatha sat on the opposite bunk. She looked over at Moloch. "I am sorry I got you into this."  
  
"You kidding? This is deluxe compared to my usual." Moloch said. "Look, we don't even have to hang out the porthole of we wanna--"  
  
"Enough." Agatha shifted as pinpricks came through her skirt. "Do not get too comfortable. We are leaving as quickly as possible. I want to be behind the walls of Mechanicsburg before he awakes."  
  
"Don't want to see if there still fire between you and loverboy?" Moloch asked.  
  
"He's promised to someone else." Agatha slowly stroked the furry head that bumped her palm.  
  
"You might challenge her!" Zeetha crowed. "Hey, cute kitty. He must come with the room."  
  
"Cat?"  
  
Agatha looked down.  
  
Cynical green eyes framed by white fur looked back at her.  
  
"KROSP!"


	11. Chapter 11

"Yeah, you’re definitely my vassal." Krosp settled into her lap. "A cat can tell that someone's their vassal by how they've been trained to pet them."  
  
"Like this?" Agatha grinned as she scritched behind his ears just so. "My apologies, my king. I once again forgot the milk."  
  
"I forgive you," Krosp said regally. "You can make it up for me in Mechanicsburg."  
  
"Uh, hey, should we be trusting him?" Moloch said. "Maybe you knew him then. You don't know him now."  
  
"Of course I can-" Agatha sighed, "Sorry, Krosp. I let myself slip."  
  
"Listen to the head minion." Krosp nodded to Moloch. "You're opportunistic and suspicious. I like you."  
  
"Agatha told me a little about you," Zeetha said. "Said you were a sneaky little guy who had the courage to attack a jaeger-bear."  
  
"I did?" Krosp blinked. "Well, that's ironic."  
  
"I sense a story." Agatha knuckled his brow. "I'd love to hear what you have been up to."  
  
"Oh, this and that...."  
  
+++++  
  
Krosp stared balefully through the ventilation grill at the doofus who was about to ruin everything. He did not know why the jaegers had been hot on his hindpaws for the past few days. Annoying as it was to admit it, they were persistent trackers who had discovered almost all of his hiding spaces and supply caches. Now, this ram-horned doofus was picking over the airship simulator he had knocked up for the escape he had planned for himself and Poppa.  
  
Great. Just great.  
  
"Hyu is vun schmott kitty-kat," the jaeger said. "Iz vy somevun who is hyu vassal sez ve take care of hyu."  
  
Wait, what? _Vassal_?  
  
"Dis somevun sez dot she iz always a loyal subject ov de Emperor of Cats," the jaeger continued. "Undt it vould be my honor to escort hyu to meet de generals vot vant to tok vit such an important kitty."  
  
No. He was not some rube to fall for such a transparent ploy.  
  
"Undt I heff refreshment fit for a king." The jaeger held up a tin of sardines.  
  
Oh, that changed everything.  
  
Krosp leaped out atop the jaeger's hat.  
  
"I accept the fealty of my vassal." Krosp rapped one horn. "Now, get that tin open."  
  
+++++  
  
Krosp nibbled a sardine as he pawed through the intelligence report sent by the jaegergeneral's informant. General Goomblast poured him another cup of catnip tea while Zog and Khrizvan lounged in their chairs with their own cups and a plate of candied locusts. Krosp wasn't averse to the odd bug himself. But it wasn't really fit to eat if it was already dead. It had to be paw-batted to build up the fear-taste foir that extra kick. Sardine tasted better fished right out of the bowl, too. But these were being fed to him by a human woman--an Arella something--with a slight Mechanicsburg accent. So it was properly seasoned with respect.  
  
Krosp's tail swished as he considered the implications of what he was reading.  
  
"So that old fairy tale the Storm Lord put out actually came true," Krosp said. "And Lucrezia was going to go cuckoo-in-the-nest to secure Mechanicsburg for them."  
  
"Ho, hyu iz a schmott vun." Goomblast broad, fang-filled smile would have been worthy of a feline. "He iz most definitely de vun for dis task."  
  
"Hyu lead my boys on quite de chase," Zog said. "I tink dot hyu could pull it off."  
  
"You mean sneak into Sturmhalten and get third-party confirmation." Krosp sniffed. "Of course I could. What’s in it for me?"  
  
"Responsibility to hyu vassal." Khrizan calmly stirred in another sugar cube. "Undt maybe hyu gets sometink for hyu poppa, who hyu stay fo'."  
  
"The Baron will never let Poppa free." Krosp's ears flattened. "I wouldn't after reading the reports of what he was up to before Wulfenbach dug into his brain."  
  
"Protective custody," Goomblast said. "A nize retirement taking care ov de petting zoo in de greens."  
  
Krosp considered.  
  
That could just maybe work.  
  
But.  
  
"One thing before I do this." He jabbed a claw to the jaeger-generals. "I pull this off, there had better be a whole lot more sardines waiting for me. And a big ball of yarn."  
  
+++++  
  
The sardines weren't worth it!  
  
Poppa could escape on his own!  
  
The Heterodye Girl could go shovel her own litterbox!  
  
Krosp barely dodged the claws of the reventant-raptor that had been tracking him for dozens of kilometers. Everything had gone to plan on the reconnaissance into Sturmhalten. He had snapped dozens of pictures that confirmed the intel given the jaeger-generals. He had slipped out clean. Only that overgrown carnivorous chicken had decided it needed a cat-treat. The only way to dodge it would have been to slip into the sewers. Not that. Never that. So he was running through the mountains that surrounded Mechanicsburg getting farther away from his rendezvous point with Rerich. Maybe he could ditch the miniature rucksack on his back. That would let him run faster.  
  
Then he would lose the evidence.  
  
He would have failed the mission.  
  
He would be as useless as everyone said he was.  
  
No _prey_ was going to make him admit that.  
  
There. There was a cave. It would be close quarters. That was good. That bird relied on height to get at him. Krosp put on a burst of speed just before the thing's talons closed on his tail. It fluttered up to gain altitude for another dive...and shrieked when it nearly hit the ceiling of the cave. Krosp ditched the pack to bounce up something furry that grunted under him. Snarling, he leaped at the prey with claws extended. Lines of fire were drawn down his right side. Claws ripped through a wing. They fell together bouncing off another rug. Krosp ignored the pain and blood dripping from the wounds in his side to confront his nemesis.  
  
A massive paw closed around the bird.  
  
There was a screech and then a crunch as it was stuffed into a maw.  
  
Hey! That was his kill!  
  
How dare that--uh--  
  
Krosp looked about. Rising all around him were huge, furry creatures that looked like the toys that Poppa kept making. What were they called? "Bears". They were, uh, bigger than the ones Poppa hid in the storage closet. Green eyes gazed down at him. So. This was it. Well, he wasn't going out like some canine. Rearing up on hindpaws, Krosp fluffed his fur and **Looked Big** while hissing. One of the bears leaned down to sniff him. There was a mutter of guttural Romanian that for some reason he was a little too weak to concentrate on. He must be hallucinating. All the bears were bowing down before him. They were saying--  
  
\--saying--  
  
"Kaiser"?  
  
+++++  
  
Krosp refused to let the discomfort from the stitches show. The polar bear who was the Scwartzwalders’ chief medic only knew how to treat other bears. The gashes from the chicken's talons hadn't been deep enough for invasive surgery. So the doc-bear had been able to sew them up without too much trouble. It still hurt like hell. He had to draw up on his all his reserves of feline sang-froid not to look weak.  
  
He sat on top of Koenig's head idly examining his foreclaws as the stealth-transport landed. The muffled engines kept turning when the ramp at the rear came down. The Baron strode out cool-as-you-please with General Zog and a squad of jaegers backing him up. All the surprise he showed at the ranks of Poppa's secret army arrayed behind Krosp was a raised eyebrow. Krosp would never admit to it. But he had studied the Baron on how to act imperial. The Baron came to a halt before Koenig and his KaIser. For political reasons, Krosp made sure that he was eye to eye with Klaus instead of above him as was proper.  
  
"Hy see hyu find hyu own ball of yarn," Zog said with a laughing rumble.  
  
"The bears that Dmitri was so obvious in keeping hidden." Klaus sighed. "I must be getting old. He was distracting me from his secret masterpiece."  
  
"Nah, that masterpiece was me." Krosp preened. "Poppa might have been working with a quarter of his brain. He still fooled you into funding the creation of the commander of his army."  
  
"Can we get to the point of all this?" Klaus said.  
  
"Let me have my moment." Krosp counted ten flicks of his tail. Then he nodded to one of Koenig's captains. "Alright. Hand it over."  
  
"Damn him," Klaus snarled as he examined the pack's contents. "I should have had agents in Sturmhalten years ago."  
  
"Wouldn't have done any good," Krosp said. "They would have ended up dead or wasped."  
  
"Hyu mean revenants?" Zog said. "Dot vould heff been obvious giffen to moaning and lurching."  
  
"It turns out there is another kind of revenant," Krosp said. "I saw a geisterdammen walk into a market and give orders to townspeople. They obeyed exactly like lurchers to a queen's song."  
  
"Of course. The lurchers were outliers." Klaus ran a hand through his grey hair. "The true revenants were asymmptotic."  
  
"I tink hy see vat hyu vant, kitty." Zog smiled cynically. "Who knows how many iz infected in de Baron's troops. De vuns dot is immune is my jaegers--"  
  
"--and these bears." Krosp smirked. "I mean, you could find a way to sniff out the stealh-revenants in your army. It'd take time you don't have."  
  
"I see." Klaus shook his head. "I will never release Vapnoople to his creations. You are too loyal."  
  
"Talk to the general about his ideas about prospective custody." Krosp patted Koenig's head. "As for our loyalty? Koenig, tell the Baron about the chain of command."  
  
"Kaiser commands these bears on behalf of Creator," Koenig rumbled. "Those were Creator's orders: 'hide and wait for secret master to bring you commands'."  
  
"Trust me, those commands won't be 'terrorize the countryside.” Krosp sniffed. "That's stupid. I might be owning it someday."  
  
"An arrangement, then?"  
  
"An alliance between equals." Krosp brought out a sheaf of papers from under one of Koenig's pauldrons. "I made the treaty simple. Sovereign tribe, eternal friendship, independent court, etcetera."  
  
Klaus glanced over the treaty...and with a pen from a vest pocket, signed it.  
  
It had worked?  
  
Of course it had worked.  
  
Never had any doubt at all.  
  
"Have your army ready to assault next evening." Klaus handed the treaty back for Krosp to paw-print. "Let's end this once and for all."  
  
+++++++  
  
"Hey, is this my master's apprentice?" Krosp spoke into the communicator's microphone.  
  
"Who is this?" came a voice from the speakers.  
  
"The new management." Krosp glanced up. Lights from the invasion fleet lanced down as drop-pods descended. "Thought I would give you advance notice that the Baron is hitting Balan's Gap right now. He knows everything: the Beacon Engine, the girls, the geisters, the hidden revenants."  
  
"Kaiser, these bears have taken the gatehouse with minimal casualties," Koenig said over the screaming coming over the connection.  
  
"Excellent." Krosp clicked the transmit button. "So, my bears tell me that you're not exactly on board with the Sturmvorauses. Maybe you might want to distance yourself from Lucrezia's faction. Clean house. Look squeaky clean for when Klaus turns his attention to you."  
  
"What is your game?" the voice said.  
  
"Payment for taking care of Poppa's bears." Krosp took a moment to review the reports from the assault squads. "And an Emperor can never have too many friends. Especially if they might be the last decent Storm King candidate alive after all this."  
  
Silence.  
  
Then--  
  
"Martellus von Blitzengaard does value friends."  
  
"So does Krosp the First, Emperor of Cats." Krosp gestured the signal-corps bear to shut down the telluric-wave communicator. He jumped onto Koenig's right shoulder. "Alright! Advance! Take out those spiders and geisters!"  
  
"MAUUUUUL!"  
  
++++++  
  
Two emperors sat on a bench on the banks of a duck pond in the Greens of Mechanicsburg. The ducks squabbled over bits of meat Klaus tossed from a paper bag. A bear-cub page with a pillow bearing a ball of yarn and a plate of sardines delicately fed Krosp a fish. Krosp chewed the dainty as he watched a broad, tall man in a janitor's overalls being lead from a prison transport. There was a brass collar with a winged-rook sigil at his throat. On top of his bald head was a fresh set of sutures among the grid impressed into his scalp. He mouthed incomprehensible babble as he was lead through a gate with PETTING ZOO wrought in iron above it.  
  
"You cut into his brain again," Krosp snarled. “That was not the deal!”  
  
"I have not lowered his intelligence.” Klaus flicked a sirloin tip into the flock. “Merely altered his language centers to render any communication verbal or written gibberish. I am sure you will interpret his ‘commands’ properly.”  
  
Krosp watched through the iron fence as Dmitri Vapnoople embraced a miniature allosaur.  
  
“Well. He seems happy.” Krosp edged out of Klaus’ shadow to better catch the sun. “Why the detonator-collar on top of it?”  
  
“Consider it my respect for your creator’s potential abilities.” Klaus settled back onto the bench. “You did fine work at Sturmhalten. Would you consider taking the field again beside me?”  
  
“Since you clearly need some professional help.” Krosp idly batted the ball of yarn. “While you’re sorting out your own people.”  
  
“I do believe this is the start of a fruitful partnership,” Klaus said.  
  
Farther down the bank, an old woman in a shawl tossed meat to the ducks.  
  
Krosp met her eyes as she made a certain pre-arranged sign.  
  
“Oh, isn’t it just,” Krosp said as he counter-signed to “Grandmere”.  
  
+++++  
  
“....taking care of a few things.” Krosp smiled. “Now, let’s get to work on fixing this mess you’ve gotten yourself into, kid.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me so hard. And I suspect it shows.
> 
> Still, onward.

Gil stared at the wings mounted on a wall of his private lab. There had been a number of annoying voices who had been badgering him earlier. Some of them had asked if he wanted to attend his father's bedside. Gil found that unnecessary. _Just like Father never telling him where his mother was_. If Father died, then he would be quickly informed that he had inherited the Empire. Should he call himself "Baron" or "Prince"? Since apparently he was a prince of Skiffander--a land he now knew about _because some random carnie had told him about it._

Gil’s hands clenched into fists.

He did not think it wise that he be alone in the same room with his father right now.

The annoying voices had stopped when he had flash-welded in the access doors closed with thermite. Handy stuff, that. Now he could contemplate _his humiliating failure as a human being_ in peace. Miss Clay's work was amazing. He could see the influences of Van Rijn's work in the structure of the glider's wings. It was clearly derived from the Muse of Protection's decorative wings. Yet it had an excellent glide ratio combined with a maneuverability he could only marvel at. The joints in the structure were eerily similar to those he had been contemplating for his flying engine . They were also half the weight for the same amount of strength. Miss Clay was _the girl he had been looking for all his life. _**_He had realized that thirty seconds after his hand had closed about her throat_**.

**_She had been right there under his nose. If he had had the chance to talk with her--_**

\---right after he had killed her mentor with that seeker drone that had been aimed at his father.

Well, it was not as if he expected the universe to be fair or anything.

He rolled his neck as skilled fingers worked out the tension there.

"Ah. Seffie." Gil glanced first at the sealed doors, then the windows with their alarms. "I didn't see you come in."

"I would hope not," Seffie said, massaging a pressure point. "Oh, my poor Gil. You should not whip yourself over this. There was no way you could have known."

"I could have reviewed the surveillance footage first before acting like a thug,"Gil said. "You can call it off if you want. I can't imagine you want to be married to a jerk who beats up innocent women.”

"I still love my brother, don't I?" Seffie said. "You feel terrible about it, which is the important thing."

"I have no idea how to make this up to Miss Clay," Gil said. He ran he hand through mussed hair. "Perhaps assign her lab space, see if she can apply her insight to my flying--OW!”

"Oh, silly me, I was distracted." Seffie soothed the aching knot. "I'm not sure you can apologize to Miss Clay enough, Really,it is best she disappear."

Gil turned about with a raised eyebrow.

"It would be natural for a young Spark to show off before an experienced man such as the Baron," Seffie continued. "Of course, such a newly broken-through Spark's designs might have a flaw that she had not a chance to discover by testing it before her demonstration."

"Happens all the time, actually." Gil nodded. "Everyone fake laughs as I hand her a pardon. She can do some menial work about the Castle until she can slip off to Paris."

"Londinium," Seffie said. "Her tale would amuse the Queen. From there, entry to Cambridge or Oxford would be simple."

"You're a genius." Gil smiled wryly. "Comes from cleaning up after your brother, I read about--"

"We don't talk about Munich." A haunted look briefly passed over Seffie's features.

"I will never speak it again." The redacted report had actually raised Gil's opinion of Tarvek to above slime mold. Briefly. "The only niggle in this plan is that Miss Clay won't be happy to play the buffoon. She was incandescent over how Beetle hid her from my father." 

"I'm sure she'll understand why this is best for everyone," Seffie said. "Let me talk with her. Or I can have Sparafucile explain matters. She has this smile that makes everything seem so clear."

"I have no idea how to thank you for cleaning up this mess," Gil said.

"I have a few ideas," Seffie replied.

When had that couch gotten behind him? All it took was a slight push from Seffie had him sprawling back against it. His heart sped up as her expression became...._intense_. Her laugh had a sparky maniacal tinge to this that was only a few degrees off a real one. She had been practicing the harmonics. His betrothed slipped into his lap side-saddle. Her red hair shifted so that is blocked out any sight of the wings he had been studying. Right. Clear that from his mind. It wouldn't matter. Miss Clay would be in Londinium inside a month or so. By that time he was be saying vows in Notre Dame Cathedral.

Seffie became bolder as his arms closed around her. Gil compared her technique to the _demimondaines_ and damsels he had made out with in Paris. She was much more skilled than any of them. She raised the expected physical reaction in record time. Gil tried to respond in kind. Seffie deserved better from her husband-to-be. There had to be a way past this glass panel in his mind. Think of her laugh. Think of _the fury in her voice as she defied him captive in his grasp. Think of the inferno smoldering behind her green eyes. Think of her in the footage from the stealth-dirigible in her combat mech as she howled in glorious rage as the creations of her genius rampaged across the landscape. _**_Think of what it would be like to have her loom over him, daring him to figure out how she did it._**

*CHUFF*

Black fire and slag, he was finally getting into it. Why was there always something like a giant bear to ruin the mood? He might as well prop open the doors wide with how little the security measures meant.

Seffie yelped as he somersaulted backwards with her in a bridal carry. One hand seized a fencing foil as the other shoved her behind him. The bear with rings in its ears stared crosseyed at the tip of the foil right before its nose. With a yawn, it bit off the first few centimeters of the practice sword. It spit out a length of mangled metal before settling back on its haunches. A tall, slender figure dressed in an elegant ensemble of silver grown and green coat with a white fur draped about her neck stepped into view from behind the bear. Her grey sking could have been mistaken for a geister's at a distance. 

"Pardon Fust." The words had a touch of a Mechanicsburg accent to them. "He is worse than those yappy little rat-dogs for going wandering."

"Lady Jenka, I presume," Seffie said, adjusting her dress. "Come to present your diplomatic credentials to the Baron?"

"We are of course a loyal vassal of the Empire." Lady Jenka smiled with a mouth free of the expected fangs. "I am serving as envoy to the court of Krosp the First."

It clicked after he mentally reviewed the footage once again.

"She's your descendent," Gil said. 

"My daughter, yes," Lady Jenka said. "I was among the few among the kin to be permitted by the Masters to leave the confines of the town due to my duties. I was with her father when the news came of the tragedy."

"And Miss Clay is eighteen and a half," Gil said. "And of course, I ended up killing her actual father."

"No, she had no claim to Beetleburg," Jenka said. "She is Lucifer's child through and through."

+++++

She was going to end up the size of Sturmhalten Castle at this rate.

With grim resolve, Violetta popped another chocolate-covered mimmoth into her mouth. Who cared if she blew up like a balloon bee? It wasn't as if she were going to be doing anything that mattered. It was times like this that she missed Mechanicsburg. Sure, the place was a creepy tourist clipjoint where outsiders like her had to stay in after dark if they knew what was good for them. Sure, her cover as the Burgomeister's secretary was for a pointless spy assignment meant to keep her out of the way. Sure, an hour each morning was spent tossing daggers at the weasel of a cousin who had stuck her in Irrelevance, Transylvania for what he thought was her own good.

Actually, she really did loathe each second she had spent in the stupid town.

It was still better than this. Violetta lay in her small cabin a corner of the Smoke Knights barracks aboard Tweedle's airship. She had dressed herself in the greys-and-purples of a Knight whose seams she could already feel straining. She was ready for a mission she knew would never come. Why bother with weak little Vi when they had actual Knights who could do the job? She had been so sure she might do something when they had pulled her out of Mechanicsburg. But reality had set in. The most that she had done was stand guard when another Knight had to go into the field.

Tweedle's laugh boomed from the ballroom-cum-throne room towards the bow. A quirk in the ventilation system brought sound from there right to the grille above her head. He was showing a copy of the footage from that stealth-dirigible that the girl spark had wrecked. The footage had playing for hours. Cheers of "look out for that tree!" along with the smash of empty wine glasses being tossed into a fireplace came through the duct. Violetta savagely crammed another mimmoth into her treacherous mouth. Not that she wanted to hang out with the jerk Tweedle and his bunch of testosterone-soaked hunting buddies. Not even if she could wear the pretty dress that her weasel-cousin had sent her which she couldn't bring herself to set on fire. Not even if she could have some guy offer her a drink and a dance which would last until dawn until he leaned in for a kiss.

Not that would ever in a million years would be in the cards for her.

Losers didn't get that.

She was about to grab the last of the mimmoths-on-a-stick when she was beaten to it by Seffie.

"Ah!" Violetta shrank back. Oh, Varpa was in the doorway. That meant the ventilation duct was trapped to heck and back.

"These are so sinfully decadent." Seffie dabbed her lips with a blue-with-white-lace handkerchief. "I wish Gilgamesh would hand-feed these to me while I lounged in some scandalous outfit out of a seraglio."

"I am not killing the girl so you can frame me as one of Lucrezia's loyalists!" Violetta snapped. Then she sagged. "Fine. When do you want it to happen?"

"Violetta, do you really think me capable of that?" Seffie said, pouting.

"I might be weak. I do have a working brain," Violetta said. "I heard the stories of the clean-up after Munich. A girl Spark showing up now while you're working on Wulfenbach is the last thing you need."

"I assure you, matters are in hand." A muscle twitched under one eye. "_So close_. Ah. No, there is no risk of temptation. Klaus Wulfenbach would never allow a marriage between Gil and the illegitimate daughter of Lucifer Mongfish by a Jaegeress."

"A fourth Mongfish daughter?" Violetta frowned. "You sure she is Lucrezia's sister rather than her--"

"Why should I question the lady Jenka?" Seffie said. "Gilgamesh already did the tests confirming it, in any case. A lock of her hair taken during an inspection and a blood sample from the lady."

"So..." Violetta licked her lips. "What do you want me to do?"

"It has been determined that the Lady Clay will admit to attacking the Baron," Seffie said. "The brute tried to force her into custody when he determined her parentage. Mechanicsburg will pay compensation for the damages caused. The Lady Clay will be considered a vassal of the Heterodynes, with Passholdt as her barony."

Violetta used all her training to suppress the urge to flee in stark raving terror as Seffie grinned.

"And _Baronin_ Clay does need a lady-in-waiting. How appropriate that a loyal resident of Mechanicsburg who was visiting family is available for the post."


End file.
